


We've been making shades of purple out of red and blue

by Artisblue, Rosesnfeathers



Category: Captain America (Comics), Captain America (Movies)
Genre: A lot of art stuff, Alternate Universe - College/University, Amnesia, Amputee Bucky Barnes, Angst, Anxiety Attacks, Artist Steve Rogers, But mostly fluff, Clint and Sam are the best bros in town, Deaf Clint Barton, Hipster Steve Rogers, M/M, Memory Loss, Nat is also a good bro, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Punk Bucky Barnes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-08
Updated: 2017-06-08
Packaged: 2018-11-06 03:57:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 27,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11028135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Artisblue/pseuds/Artisblue, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rosesnfeathers/pseuds/Rosesnfeathers
Summary: When Bucky Barnes comes back to school, Steve can't believe how he just seems to have forgotten about how they used to flirt with each other. Steve wants to hate him, he really does, but after Miss Potts pairs them up for an art project, the truth about Bucky's missing memories and limb comes out and maybe, there's a chance to rebuild what seemed to be lost.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Captain America Reverse Big Bang, inspired by the wonderful art of [artizblue](https://artizblue.tumblr.com/)  
> This is only my second piece in the Captain America fandom, and my longest fic so far. I think I might mention that english isn't my frist language, in case you notice some mistakes....  
> I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I did writing it :)  
> Here's a playlist I made in the process.
> 
> Title from the song for him. by Troye Sivan
> 
> If you liked it you can buy me a Ko-Fi is you want :) http://ko-fi.com/rosesnfeathers

“ _Art is a wound turned into light._ ”

-Georges Braque.

 

 

Steve Rogers hates Bucky Barnes.  

He hates the way he always has his nose buried in thick books and how he folds the corner of a page once in awhile, to emphasis a passage he liked, or as a bookmark. Steve hates how Bucky never looks up from the carpeted floor when he walks down their dorm corridor.

Bucky barely speaks to anyone apart from the pretty red haired girl who never leaves his side. She caught Steve looking at Bucky more than once and the looks she gives him are enough to have him shake in his converse shoes. Bucky avoids almost everyone’s eyes, and he avoids conversation with people as well.

Steve also hates how Bucky always sits at the very back of the classroom and is the first one to leave when the teacher dismisses them. Steve hates how Bucky’s questions, the few times he asks them, are always the ones he was about to ask himself. And how Bucky often words it better than he could have ever thought. Steve hates how tiny his voice sounds some days, and more confident on others.

He hates when he sees Bucky taking pictures of people in the little park in front of the art building, and how he can work his camera so swiftly with only one working hand. He hates to see girls smiling and blushing at Bucky when he asks if he can take their picture. He hates how shy and embarrassed he looks asking.

Steve hates how long his hair is now and how it hides his grey-blue eyes.  

Steve hates that Bucky never looks up at him when they cross paths.

He hates how Bucky always wears long sleeves shirts now, and how one of the sleeves is empty, sometimes pinned neatly at the shoulder, sometimes not. Steve hates more than anything that he doesn’t know how Bucky lost his arm.

Because back in first year, it was still there, filling his plaid shirts nicely.

Steve hates how it seems like Bucky just forgot about him, where he just couldn’t find it in himself to forget about the brown haired man after all this time.

 

 

-

 

 

Steve slowly opens his eyes when he hears Sam shuffling around their room.

He knows that it’s far too early because usually Sam and him go running just as the sun rises in the sky. But last night, he stayed up really late, trying to finish his project for Professor Hill’s class and he knows he couldn’t have slept for more than two or three hours when he was awoken.

He raises a hand to his face and in the process, he sees the few splotches of blue paint still sticking to his fingers and nails. He rubs at his eyes, trying to chase the sleep away. He’s met with the bright green of Sam’s t-shirt as the man stands next to Steve’s bed with a blinding smile, “So I guess you’re not coming for a run with me this morning, Rogers?”

“Can you tone down how bright you shine this morning, maybe?” Steve mumbles, hiding his face in his pillow because what the hell is this shirt? It hurts Steve’s poor sleepy eyes; without his glasses it’s like that green yellow glow in the dark color is _everywhere_.

“They invented the phrase ‘rise and shine just for me’, haven’t you heard? I rise and I shine brighter than you other poor mortals do” his roommate says, laughing and grabbing his iPod from the tiny desk between both of their beds.

Ugh. It is way too early for Sam’s never ending enthusiasm.

Steve can’t even find it in himself to reply, already back asleep before the door closes softly behind Sam, taking all of the brightness away. 

When he opens his eyes again, the room is still empty and silent and he feels a bit better than he did a few hours ago. He feel well rested and like he slept more than fifteen minutes this time. Sam’s bright running shirt peeking from under the piles of dirty clothes at the bottom of his bed, so he came back and Steve didn’t even hear him.  

He gets out of bed and stretches, looking at himself in the mirror and fighting a grimace at his terrible bed head. He is more than due for a trim on his under cut, also the longer strands of blond hair on top are starting to fall into his eyes. It’s getting a bit annoying when he paints or draws, always distracting him.  

There is flecks of red and orange paint in them too and Steve’s blue stained fingers get caught in tangles when he tries pushing it away from his face. He looks like he rolled himself into the paint instead of using his brushes. He’s been told more than once that when he paints, he does it with his whole body and now he can see what they mean.   

But it’s a pain in the ass to remove dry paint from his hair. 

He should stop by Peggy’s room and see if she can give him a little cut, he thinks, pushing his thick framed glasses on his nose and looking for a towel and a clean pair of sweatpants. He grabs his soap and shampoo and his room key before heading for the showers at the end of the corridor.  

But of course, as soon as he gets a foot out of his room —practically naked, except for his old, paint splattered sweats — he comes  face to face with none other than Bucky Barnes himself.  

Well, if you can call it that. The man is still looking at the floor as he walks past Steve to his own room, completely ignoring him, so they are not really face to face per say but still… It’s like Steve sees him everywhere lately. 

Bucky’s hair is wet and falling in dark strands in front of his eyes, leaving little droplets on the white fabric of his long sleeve shirt. He is wearing dark basketball shorts today and, Steve’s breath catches a bit in his throat when he sees that on Bucky’s calves, are some pretty big scars. It’s probably a result of the accident in which he lost his left arm as well. It looks like a pink and white spiderweb against the golden skin of his legs.  

It must have hurt like hell, Steve thinks.

Some boys from the football team greet Bucky as he walks past but he stays silent apart for a tiny nod of his head to acknowledge their presence.   

And it makes Steve angry again, how he doesn’t speak to anyone. And he knows it must be because the man clearly went through hell and back and yet it still makes him upset when he has absolutely no reason to be. A part of Steve just want to help him, to say “Hey man, I’m here for you if you need to talk to someone.”  

But Bucky ignores Steve, he never even looks up at him and Steve is mad about it. He doesn’t know why he feels that way whenever he looks at Bucky, like something is burning in his chest, some flame he doesn’t know how to tame or control. There is always this anger and this need for the other man to just raise his head and look into his eyes. Maybe that’s why it makes him angry, knowing deep down that he doesn’t hate him at all and just want to help him? Maybe, Steve hopes that if Bucky looks up, he’ll finally remember him.

 

 

-

 

 

“Why do you hate him so much? I mean, he barely talks, Steve!”

“I don’t hate him,” Steve lies, his eyes leaving Bucky’s form to stare at Sam sitting across from him in utter confusion, “What are you talking about?”  

He really doesn’t remember, blanking out from the conversation to glare at Bucky across the room.

Sam leans forward, with his serious, _I know all of your darkest secrets_ , look on his face, “Because you stare at the man like you want to rip his other arm off.” 

“Sam!” 

“Okay, okay, no arms jokes. I’m sorry. But I mean, seriously, what has he done to you?” 

“Nothing,” Steve mutters, staring back at the sketchbook in front of him, doodling around like he always does, hoping Sam would just drop it and talk about something else. But as he looks down at his sketchbook, what he sees is the squareness of a jawline that is all too familiar and the dip of a shirt, showing sharp collarbones he daydreamed about way too much back in his first year of college.  

Back when Bucky used to wear more revealing clothes instead of plaid shirts too big on him and hoodies and leather jackets even in the bright summer sun.  

He just closes the sketchbook angrily and puts it back in his bag, under Sam suspicious eyes, just as Clint enters the room and walks towards them.  

“Hey losers!” Clint all but yells as he reaches their table. He forgot his hearing aids. Again.

Steve signs “Hello” to Clint and is grateful for his arrival and how it takes Sam’s attention away from Steve’s internal crisis. They start arguing about some football game, out loud with some signs thrown into the conversation because Clint can read lips just fine but it’s just normal for them now to sign to him sometimes. Usually Steve would join a sport related debate but he really doesn’t feel like it today. 

His eyes start wandering again and of course fall over Bucky’s silhouette, hunched over his book, holding a pink highlighter between his teeth. He is sitting alone at his table, reading like he usually does and ignoring the crowd surrounding him. He has headphones on today, and his lips are moving once in awhile, when he removes the marker from his mouth to highlight some stuff in his book.

His hair is up in a bun today, a few strands falling in front of his eyes. Even with his hair up he is still trying to hide behind something.

They have class together next, the one where Bucky always sits in the back and never talks to anyone. Steve knows that it’s a thing that works both ways. He could stop looking at Bucky from afar and stop being angry at him and just, talk to him. Start a conversation for once and just sit with him in the back of the class. He could try all over again but...

Truth is, he’s scared. 

Six foot two, broad shouldered, quite handsome if he believes what his friends tell him, Steve is terrified of talking to Barnes because… Something clearly is broken there, he lost an arm, for Christ’s sake. There are scars that weren’t there before and there is no more light in Bucky’s blue eyes. Not like there was before.  

So Steve is scared. Scared of maybe hurting Bucky even more than he already is. Or scared of getting hurt himself in the process of discovering the kind of monsters and ghosts that are obviously hidden in there somewhere. He is scared of saying the wrong things and scaring Bucky away for good. 

As he  looks at him, Steve sees Bucky putting his book back in his bag and sliding it over his good shoulder. He stands up and walks out of the room which is Steve’s cue that he should also head to class. So he grabs his own stuff and says goodbye to his friends before following the dark silhouette walking in front of him. 

He walks slower, to stay behind him and observe.  

_Creepy much, Steve? Not only are you drawing him and staring at him, now you’re following him like some stalker._  

He is wearing the shirt Steve likes so much, black and red plaid and, with a few safety pins holding the empty sleeve up at the shoulder. Underneath, he is wearing some band shirt Steve’s never heard of and it’s a bit big on him, his collarbones peeking from below the collar, teasing Steve. Some faint white scars peaking from it as well.  

There are holes at the knees of his black skinny jeans and his combat boots are loud and heavy against the shiny floor of the art building. It’s like his whole being is begging Steve to draw him. 

Someone holds the class door for him, and there is the smallest of smiles upon his face , for just a tiny second as he thanks the guy who opened it for him. 

When he walks past the door, Bucky is already in his usual spot, and even though Steve doesn’t sit right next to him like he wants to, he does sit a bit closer than usual. He doesn’t dare look back but he does feel the newly shaven hair at the back of his head prickling with something like excitement, like someone might be staring at him. Probably just his mind playing tricks on him.  

Steve spends the few minutes before class fiddling with the few silver loops in his ear like he always does when he’s nervous. Usually he doesn’t care much, he tries not too, but today it’s like he feels Bucky’s presence more than expected.  

He barely notices their teacher taking place in front of the class. People around him have stopped talking as Professor Potts removes her jacket and ties her long blond hair back in a ponytail like she always does at the start of every lecture .  

Her voice is what brings Steve back to earth and he opens his notebook willing his mind to concentrate on the class instead of thinking about Bucky sitting two rows behind him. His neck is still tingling with some unknown feeling and he really wants to look over his shoulder, just once, to see what Bucky is doing.  

“Good afternoon everyone! I am really excited about the next project I want you to do for this class,” Professor Potts says, a bright smile lighting up her face. 

“As you may know, this class is required for pretty much all the art students on campus, whatever your speciality is. So I paired you up with another art student, and I want you to both use your different medium to create something together.” 

People are already starting to whisper around Steve, some in excitement, some in annoyance. Steve is already looking around the room himself, trying to spot someone he knows and could work with but Professor Pott’s voice cuts through his thoughts again, 

“Silence please. Don’t get too excited because _I_ picked your partners, like I just said, inspired by your individual work and what I think might look more interesting.” 

And of course, as Mrs Potts calls the names, Steve’s knows what is going to happen because the universe hates him. She says, “James Barnes and Steve Rogers” with a knowing smile and Steve doesn’t know if he is suppose to cry or dance from happiness. But one thing is sure, his will finally give him the occasion to speak to Bucky like he really wanted too.  

 

 

-

 

 

At the end of the class, Bucky is waiting next to the door, looking at students passing by with a frown on his face, fiddling absentmindedly with the strap of his bag. He looks nervous, biting at his bottom lip, his eyes dancing around the room.

“Bucky?” Steve says almost shyly and the other man quickly turns his head to looks at him. There is something like confusion that flashes in his eyes and he gives Steve a small smile but it doesn’t looks like a real one and doesn’t quite reach his eyes. It’s a kind of smile Steve’s never seen before on Bucky’s face.

“Not a lot of people call me Bucky anymore... Um, do we know each other?” and he’s looking at Steve with a more intense frown now, like he really is trying to remember him.

Something like hurt burns hot in Steve’s chest then. Bucky really did forget him, after all. His voice is also not the same, well, yes it is but, there is less cockiness, he sounds more careful. He speaks a bit softer than he did before and it makes even more questions pop up in Steve’s already running mind.

“Not really,” he mumbles because he is not one to humiliate himself when he can avoid it, “do you prefer I call you James, then?”

“No. Actually, I really prefer Bucky,” and there is the glint of something in his eyes then, “So you’re Steve Rogers? You’re my partner? I do photography mostly, what do you do?”

“I paint,” Steve answers, his mind already miles away, trying to will his features into anything else than the hurt he feels ripping his chest apart. The words “So you’re Steve Rogers?” are still ringing, over and over in his head. _He forgot you Steve, he really did._

“You really look familiar,” Bucky says again, squinting his eyes and looking at Steve’s face like there is some enigma he is trying to solve behind his thick frames glasses, “Are you sure we -”

Steve interrupts him, because he really doesn’t want to remind Bucky that they once almost knew each other. His pride might not survive this discussion, Steve thinks. But there is a  tired kind of look on Bucky’s face like he might ask this question a lot. _“Do I know you?”_. But it also look like he might, for once, really wants to know the answer. Still, Steve doesn’t have the strength to face the truth today. 

“We live in the same dorm, that’s all.” 

“Oh! Well that would only make the project easier. Room 306. I have a single room so we could work in peace. What about tomorrow night. Around six?” 

“Uh. Yeah. Sounds good to me.”

“See you then, Steve.”

And Bucky walks away, pushing strands of dark hair from his face and blending into the crowd of students until he turns a corner and disappears completely from his view.

Steve, instead of going back to his dorm, heads to the art studio, he feels that familiar itching in the tips of his fingers like he does whenever he needs to paint. That conversation left him with a weird feeling it’s like… He finally talked with Bucky only to be reminded that he didn’t remember him, and now they have to work together for the next few weeks and, all of this is really confusing for Steve.

Peggy is there already when he pushes open the door of the art studio. She’s humming softly while her paintbrush is dancing on the canvas in front of her. Her hair is tied up in a soft ponytail and there is barely a trace of paint on her clothes. Where Steve paints with anger most of the time, where his brushes moves quickly and with broad movements, Peggy looks like she makes the paint dance upon whatever surface she’s working on.

Steve always envied her calm behavior when she works. Peggy envies his passion. Maybe that’s why they get along so well, they compliment each other in some artistic kind of way.

“Hi Steve!”

He mumbles some kind of greeting before walking to his own piece and picking a few clean brushes from his bag. She must sense that he doesn’t want to be disturbed because she stays silent and keeps her distance from him. When she leaves, it’s hours before he is even done with his own piece and when he finally realizes she’s gone, it’s even later.

There is a little pink post-it note on his backpack: _Whatever make you upset, you know you can talk to me about it. Don’t be too hard on yourself. P. xx_

 

 

-

 

 

Steve is standing in front of Bucky’s door, cursing himself for talking so long to pick an outfit and trying to make his hair look decent. It’s a school project, that’s all, it’s not a date and still, he is wearing one of his best outfits, hoping deep down that Bucky won’t ask him to use some paint today because he really loves the white t-shirt he put on.  

He is more than happy Sam wasn’t in their room when he got ready earlier because he would have teased him for _months_. 

He doesn’t have time to even knock because the door opens in front of him and there stands Bucky, this time in a short sleeve shirt and as soon as his eyes falls on Steve he consciously starts fidgeting with the hem of the empty sleeve of the garment.  

Steve admires the ink all over his arm, the ink he can’t normally see when Bucky wears long sleeves shirts all the time. Steve especially loves the tattoo of a rose on the back of his hand. He had it back then and even if the red looks a bit faded now, it’s still a beautiful tattoo. There is a lot more ink now, on his good arm. 

“I thought I heard something. You know it works better when you actually knock, right?”

“I was just about to,” Steve says, trying not to be embarrassed about the fact the stood in front of the door way too long without actually knocking on it.  

“Come in, let me grab my sweater.” 

Steve raises a hand, like he was about to touch Bucky, to grab his wrist but, he let it fall before it makes contact with the other man’s skin. 

“You don’t… You don’t have to. I mean, if it makes you uncomfortable, you can of course but, I am not. Uncomfortable I mean.” 

“Uh. Okay. You’re sure? Because people usually stare and I just...” Bucky says, looking at his feet for a second and then when he looks back at Steve his mouth twist in some awkward kind of smile. 

“I’m sure,” Steve says, and then, to clear the air from its awkwardness “Nice ink.”  

“Oh. Thanks.” 

They stand there for a few beats, looking at each other and again, on Bucky’s face there is this questioning look like he is trying to read something on Steve’s face, something in a language he doesn’t quite understand. Steve doesn’t know what Bucky is looking for, or if he finds it after all but, he turns around at some point, walking to his desk to open up his laptop. 

“I always have my Thursday nights off so, if it works for you, we can make it a weekly thing?” Bucky says, with his back to Steve. 

“Yeah, it works fine for me.” 

Steve walks closer to Bucky then, taking in his room as he does so. The walls are blank, no posters or pictures like in Steve and Sam’s room.  

Steve’s side of their room is full of his sketches but Bucky’s space is totally empty. It’s a bit sad actually, a reminder that something happened, something bad. And it is not Steve’s place to ask yet. But he would like to know at some point, what is behind those scars and the sad look in his eyes. 

There is actually a few picture frames on his bed side table, portraits of his family probably but, that’s all there is.  

There is more than one bookshelf though, completely filled to the brim with books. Some Steve is familiar with and more than the half of it he never heard of before.  

“Major in English Lit.” 

“I can see that,” Steve whispers and finally when he looks back at Bucky, the laptop is open to what looks like a photo gallery. Little thumbnails of colors are littering the screen and Bucky is looking at him, shyly, almost embarrassed to share his work with Steve.  

“So, um… I don’t know if you had any ideas but, you can look at my pictures and we can try to work something out?” 

Steve nods and sits at Bucky’s desk, scrolling through pictures and _wow_. He’s amazing.  

Most of his pictures are in black and white and still, you can see the light and the happiness of his subjects. There is more life in his pictures than Steve’s ever seen before. Some are darker, and way more sad but mostly, there is always a little something shining in them. Someone's smile, or eyes, or the sun peaking between the clouds.  

Even when it’s a landscape, or a bird perched in some tree, or the facade of some building, there is always a bit of light in the picture. Steve wonders how come he can catch such pretty light through the lense of his camera when most days it looks like something took the light away from him. Maybe that’s how he’s chasing it... 

The colored ones are all so bright, and are mostly of a girl who looks a lot like Bucky, with long brown hair and bright blue eyes. Bucky really is talented with a camera. 

“You’re not a big talker aren’t you?” Bucky asks, not above then a whisper, right next to his ear. 

Steve turns around to look at him, and he is quite surprised to be asked this to be honest. Especially when he’s barely heard Bucky talk since the beginning of the school year. And just as he voices his thoughts to the long haired man, Bucky gives Steve a sad little shrug, looking away from his eyes, to somewhere above his right shoulder, “M’not really good at making friends anymore…” 

There. Another hint at the past. Nobody calls him Bucky _anymore_. He is not good at making friends _anymore_. If he does remember his past, why doesn’t he remember Steve then? 

“So I feel like, some people might think our project would be you taking pictures of me, and me painting you while you take pictures of something but… I don’t really want that,” Steve replies, trying to change the subject and take that sad look away from Bucky’s eyes. 

“Me neither” 

“So, if I ask you to take pictures of some things in specific color ranges, could you do that? And then I will like, add them to a painting I do.” 

“So you would fill some part of your canvas with my pictures instead of with paint?” 

Steve only nods. He had no ideas before walking in Bucky’s room but, looking at his pictures, now he knows. Seeing how Bucky mostly does black and white and how Steve himself usually paints without any plan, how he just lets the paint do its own work, he thinks this could be a nice little challenge for the both of them.  

Bucky smiles at him then and Steve stops breathing for a moment. because it might be the first real smile he’s seen on Bucky’s face since he got back after his accident. 

He is almost grateful, _almost_ , about the fact that Bucky barely speaks, or smiles, or talks to anyone since his accident. And he knows it sounds completely horrible but Steve is a bit selfish. Because if Bucky smiled like that too much, Steve is pretty certain he would have lost him to a much luckier boy or even a girl a long time ago.  

He really can’t understand how there isn’t a line of people at Bucky’s door because damn, isn’t he beautiful when he just smiles like that? 

“Can I see yours? I mean, your art?”  

“Oh. Of course um… We can go to the art studio. My last one is still drying.” 

“Sure. I’ll just -” And Bucky motions to his wardrobe and he picks up a black sweater with long sleeves that he puts on top of the gray t-shirt he was already wearing. He is struggling a little with it and Steve almost takes a step forward to help him, but Bucky manages to do it on his own. He doesn’t bother doing anything with the empty sleeve and grabs a dark scarf that he wraps around his neck. 

They stop at Steve’s room so he can put on some warmer clothes as well. And just before they get going, Bucky reaches his hand and pulls a few strands of blond hair out of Steve’s beanie. 

Bucky’s cheeks gets a nice shade of pink as he says “Looks better that way,” but he also looks a bit surprised at himself for being so bold, like he doesn’t understand why he reached out and touched Steve so easily.   

But Steve swears he can still feel the warmth of Bucky’s fingers against his temple all the way to the art building. 

They walk quite slowly, enjoying how nice the weather still is on the first few days of fall, even if it does start to get a little colder at night time. They talk a bit about school related things. About their respective teachers and current assignments. About the book Bucky needs to read for one of his classes and how it’s supposed to be a classic but he’s really hating it. 

It makes Steve smile with how passionate he gets talking about it, it doesn’t look like Bucky hates the book at all. And Steve loves it, how Bucky’s cheeks are pink from the cold and how he keeps moving his hand when he talks and how bright his eyes gets when he speaks about the main character and his many, many flaws. “I just hate that guy,” Bucky mutters to himself. 

Steve could listen to him talk all night. 

When they reach the building, Steve holds the door for Bucky, just because he feels like being a gentleman. 

But then he feels a flush take over his face and he is now suddenly self conscious because of the whole arm thing and he really doesn’t want Bucky to feel like Steve is taking pity on him. Like Steve might think Bucky can’t open a god damn door by himself. 

But Bucky just smiles at him and says thank you, like he genuinely appreciate Steve’s gesture. And Steve tries to remind himself that really, he needs to stop overreacting about everything and just enjoy the night and the moments he finally gets to spend with Bucky Barnes.  

Steve also needs to accept that he really doesn’t hate him at all. 

He gets nervous the closer they get to the art studio and when he finally opens the door and turns on the light, his piece is in the middle of the room and facing them. He can’t really run away. It’s way too late for that. He still feels like pulling his beanie over his face, and the hood of his coat as well and just hiding.  

He feels like this pretty much whenever he has to share one of his pieces with someone, and tonight is even worse because it’s Bucky. 

Bucky approaches the canvas, silently walking closer and closer. The room is filled with nothing but the faint sound of their breathing and the ticking of the big old clock above the door. 

There is a big red star, in the middle of the canvas and all around it, like it’s bursting and bleeding colors, there are streaks of black and silver and gold. Steve doesn’t know why he did it. He just did. He walked in the room and the colors were calling him and he let them take over his hands and that’s what happened. But he really loves it. He is really proud of this one but it doesn’t make it easier showing his stuff to other people. 

Stars are kind of his thing. He always puts them in his art at some point, hidden in the corner or as the center of it. He doesn’t know why. He just love the symbolism of stars. 

“Steve! This is amazing!” Bucky whispers, voice filled with awe.  

It’s the first time Steve’s heard so much emotion in the other man’s voice, he thinks. 

“I’m so happy I got paired up with you to be honest,” Bucky adds a bit louder and, just like that, Steve can feel all of his nerves settling down and relief fills his veins and wraps around his bones.  

Maybe this project would be better than he expected after all.  

They walked back to their dorm in a great mood that night and Steve made Bucky laugh more than once which he takes as a small victory. Sam was there when he got back though, and he got the teasing he was first scared of.  

“What’s got you smiling so bright Rogers? Finally got yourself a date?”  

Steve just ignores him and goes to bed with a big smile on his face. His mind is still running with ideas for their project and he is trying not to think too much about the pretty pink stains on Bucky’s cheeks or the bright red of his cold bitten lips in the crisp autumn air.  He definitely doesn’t think about how, in the night, Bucky’s eyes looks greyer than ever and how all these colors were enough inspiration for Steve to have him create a few dozens of paintings.

 

 

-

 

 

The next morning, Steve goes running with Sam and he even wakes up before him, this time. They started running together pretty early in their first year because honestly, who can say no to Sam Wilson? But also, Steve genuinely enjoys running with him. It’s a good reminder that his sick days are behind him and just like painting, it helps to clear his mind from anything stressful happening in his life.   

They often race each other and they also challenge the other to go faster and further and he always feels immensely relaxed after a good run with his best friend. 

They don’t talk much when they run but today, Steve feels Sam’s curious eyes on him more than a few times. He knows his friend probably wants to ask what is the reason behind Steve’s smile. Or why Steve is running a bit faster today, making fun of Sam whenever he runs past him.  

“Come on, Rogers! Why don’t you take another lap since you’re such in a great mood. I’ll just die here, waiting for you,” Sam says, out of breath. He is smiling at Steve though so there is no real harm in his friend’s words. 

When they walk back to their dorm, Sam is talking about some cute girl in one of his classes, his arm wrapped around Steve shoulders, as he whispers in Steve’s ear just how pretty she is.  

They are both sweaty and still high on the adrenaline of their run. Steve doesn’t notice there are not alone in the corridor until Bucky walks by them. To Steve’s pleasant surprise, this time he does look up and gives him a shy little smile with a wave of his tattooed hand. He even gives a little nod to Sam before disappearing down the corridor.  

Steve feels some kind of pride blooming in his chest even with how innocent that little encounter was. 

But of course, as soon as the room door closes behind them, Sam is poking a sharp finger in his very sweaty chest, “What the hell was that? Did you just _smile_ at Barnes? And he smiled _back_?” 

“Shut up, Sam,” Steve mumbles and he knows his cheeks are bright pink now, not only because of the run of course. It’s because of Bucky and his stupid pretty smile and because of Sam’s teasing and he hates his dumb pale complexion and how he turns beet red whenever he get teased about something. He tries to hide it by taking his shirt off and pulling the fabric above his head but it doesn’t work because Sam sees everything. 

“You look all tough with that punk haircut and all those holes in your ears but you blush like a schoolgirl you know that? Ah! I knew that thing you had for him was just a huge boner after all!” 

Steve throws his sweaty t-shirt at Sam’s head and he laughs when he hears his friends yelp in disgust. _Good for him._  

Steve grabs some clean clothes and does his daily march towards the showers. He is pretty sure there is some grass down his underwear because Sam thought it would slow him down to tackle him on the ground. When he comes back, squeaky clean and smelling good and feeling all kind of light and happy, Sam fell back asleep on top of his bed, still in his running clothes and smelling a bit rank. Apparently rise and shine doesn’t apply to every morning of his life. 

Steve tries his best not to wake him up and grabs his stuff to go to the library and try to work on his paper for his art history class. He almost forgets his headphones as he closes the door but tiptoes back in the room, smiling as Sam mumbles nonsense in his dream.  

He finds Clint in the library, looking like he is about to rip his hair out, with dark circles under his eyes like he spent the night sitting there, surrounded by big textbooks and a few empty coffee cups. His hearing aids are in place today but Steve signs hello like he always does. 

“Rough night?” Steve whispers to him, “Did you sleep at all?” 

Clint only grunts as he keeps flipping frantically through the pages of one of the history book in front of him.  

Steve opens his own laptop and books and plugs his headphones in, trying to concentrate on his essay and for the first time this week, the words are finally flowing. Maybe all he needed was a good run to clear his head he thinks. _Or just spending the night hanging with your crush_ , says a tiny little voice inside his head.  

He types steadily for a good few hours and then, starts flipping through his art book and scrolling through Google as he thinks about his project with Bucky.  

He wants… He doesn’t know what he wants yet, to be honest. Everything in his mind is just abstract colors and words. He thinks about Bucky and there is one specific word ringing in his head, over and over again: Reborn. 

Steve wants some darkness turning into light kind of thing but he still doesn’t know how to put that on the canvas.  

He has to admit that his own work has been pretty dark since the beginning of the school year. Then, he thinks about Bucky’s black and white pictures and the few bright colored ones. He thinks they can mix that up pretty easily. That’s what he wants to do and he hopes Bucky would be on board with his idea. He doesn’t want to push him into anything he doesn’t want but, when Steve gets an idea, he can be pretty stubborn. So he hopes things will work his way. 

He notices that Clint hasn’t moved for a while and when he turns to his friend, he can see him snoring, face first in a book about World War II. He snorts and shake his friend’s shoulder, “Go to your dorm, Barton. Take a nap in your bed or something.” 

“Can’t. This is due tomorrow.” 

“And you’re not done?” 

“Yes but I keep reading and reading and finding better things to talk about.” 

“Send it to me, I’ll go through it. Go to your dorm and take a nap.  I’ll call you in two hours so you can finish this, how about that?” 

Clint starts to pick up his books without arguing but he yawns more than a few times and tries to blink the sleep out of his eyes, “Thank you, Steve. You’re the best,” he says, leaning down to leave a big noisy kiss on Steve’s cheek. 

“Yeah, yeah. Go away.” 

Steve wipes at his face and opens up the email Clint sent him. He starts reading through his friend’s essay but he has to admit that his mind is still running with colors and forms and mostly Bucky’s face. He tries his best to shake his own project out of his mind as he reads through World War II politics. 

 

 

-

 

 

Two days later, Steve is sitting in the cafeteria, his nose hidden in a comic book and his long forgotten tuna sandwich in his hand when he feels someone’s eyes on him. He lifts his head to see that Bucky is hovering awkwardly next to his table with a plate full of food in his hand.

“Do you mind? All the tables are taken.”

Steve quickly makes some room for him, closing his laptop that had gone to sleep mode awhile ago, and put it back in his bag along with his books about renaissance painters. He forgot about doing his school work a while ago and got lost in his X Men comics instead.

“Of course! Have a seat.”

Bucky puts the plate on the table before slowly taking his messenger bag off of his shoulder and pulling at the scarf wrapped around his neck. He is always wearing it lately and Steve really loves it. It’s a nice grey color, and the wool looks soft and comfortable. It makes the features of Bucky’s face looks more relaxed and it brings out pretty silver highlights in his eyes, even under the too bright fluorescent lights of the dining hall.

Bucky is also wearing a long sleeve sweater, as usual, and this time it’s a nice warm green color. It slips a bit on his good shoulder showing sharp collarbones before he pulls at the front to put it back in place.  

Aaaaand Steve really needs to stop staring at him. 

“What’s up?” he asks and _wow, real smooth Rogers_.  

With his mouth full of sandwich, Bucky gives him a little shrug as to say “Not much, really.” And then, after he swallowed his bite, he lifts his chin towards Steve’s comic book giving a little smirk as he says, “Classic literature, here.” 

“Oh well, not all of us are fancy english lit major, you know.” 

They keep eating in silence for a while but Steve closes his comic and slips it back in his bag with the rest of his things. He does bring his sketchbook out, though, and once he’s done eating he starts doodling, avoiding the pages with the few sketches of Bucky he has.

“You’re really good, you know that right?” Bucky says, looking at the page of the sketchbook instead of Steve’s eyes. “Like, it’s amazing, it’s looks like you’re taking pictures but with a pencil instead of a camera.” 

“I just love doing it.” Steve replies, eyes on the page and he knows his signature blush is high on his cheeks again.  

“Have you thought about our project?” Bucky wonders, pushing his plate away and shuffling a bit closer to Steve. There is a nice scent of woodsy cologne invading Steve’s senses as Bucky moves. “I really like your idea,” he adds looking up at Steve from under his dark lashes. 

“Thanks. I was thinking maybe something about a reborn? Some darkness to light kind of thing. I could paint something darker, turning into lights and color. So we could also use a bit of your black and white shots. These are also really good and it would be nice to use them.” 

Bucky is frowning a little bit and he looks uncertain and Steve is scared he might have said too much, or that Bucky doesn’t like where this is going. His idea, he is completely aware, might hit a few sensitive chords in Bucky. Because he does look like he’s been living in some kind of darkness since he got back.

So maybe Steve wants to show him that lights and colors are still possible. That he doesn’t have to live in the dark for the rest of his life. Steve and his stupid savior complex, he can’t help it. But he needs Bucky to want it too. If Steve wants to help Bucky, Bucky needs to want the help first.

“I think… I think it might means a bit more to me than you think.”

“Yeah, I know...”

“But... I think I want to do it.”

Steve blinks up at him in surprise, pushing his glasses back up on his nose and brushing away a few strands of blond hair in the process. He starts fiddling with the silver loops on his ear again as he asks “Are you sure?” 

Bucky lifts his hand to his missing shoulder before letting it fall back on his knee and he gives Steve a shaky little sigh before saying, “Yeah.Yeah I’m sure.”

Steve opens his mouth again and words just starts flowing, “I mean. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable but… Obviously you went through a lot but you’re still here. Art always helps me when things gets a bit harder you know? And you work hard and you do your thing and I think it’s amazing and.. I don’t know what happened to you but… I think we can make something beautiful out of it. Not out of your pain or your loss of course but… Out of how you turned out. How you’re still here and how you survived. How strong you are and… I’ll just shut up now.”

Bucky is silent for a few seconds, his eyes full of something Steve recognizes from the other night when he showed him his painting. Steve is scared for a moment though, that he said too much about stuff he knows nothing about but Bucky shakes his head, a nice smile lighting up his face and he says “You really are something else, Steve Rogers. I hope you know that.”

 

 

-

 

 

Bucky left the dining hall shortly after that. His gorgeous friend came in at some point and he left with her. Steve learned her name was Natasha and, for the first time since school year started, she smiled to him instead of shooting daggers at him with her eyes.

Maybe it was because she arrived at their table as they were both laughing together. Maybe she saw the way Steve looks at Bucky and how it is probably clear as day and written all over his face that Bucky Barnes laughing is one of the prettiest things he’s ever witnessed.

Just as they pass through the doorway, they cross paths with Clint who does a double take to look at Natasha’s retreating back who then almost runs to Steve asking who that beautiful woman was.

“Is she friends with your boyfriend?” Clint asks him with wide eyes and an even bigger smile.

Steve is more than happy that he was done eating because he choked on air just hearing Clint asking him that question. He never once talked about Bucky to Clint, how could he possibly know about Steve’s crush on the man?

And now he is doubly surprised because _Yeah Steve, you just finally admitted to yourself that you still have a crush on Bucky._

“I don’t have any boyfriend! He’s not... I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

“Yeaaaah, right. Tall, dark and handsome with the long hair and tattoos and oh yeah, a missing limb. Doesn’t ring any bells?”

Steve looks up at Clint with a frown and oh, how does he hate the smug look on his friend’s face right now. He considers lying to him and say Natasha has a boyfriend. A very big and very scary one. Well, maybe she does, Steve doesn’t know. Maybe Bucky is her boyfriend after all.

_Oh.My.God_.

What if Bucky really is Natasha’s boyfriend?

“Steve? I was kidding, you know. Why do you look like someone killed your dog, all of sudden?”

He tries to shake himself from the intense wave of sadness crashing into him at the thought that Natasha and Bucky might be together. He never thought about it before, but maybe Bucky is bisexual like him. The bedroom eyes he gave him first year doesn’t mean he is only into men. All the time he spends with Natasha, Steve thought they were just friend but really, maybe it was only wishful thinking.

“We are working on a project together, that’s all.”

“Yeah but Sam told me you’re all heart eyes over him, Rogers. That you “glow” when you see him, or whatever kind of shit they teach him in his psychology classes.”

Steve shakes his head with a small smile for Sam, and he can hear him saying those exact same words to Clint. His friend likes to analyse all of their behaviors and he also loves to play matchmaker. Steve also feels a blush rising on his cheeks because yeah, maybe he does give Bucky heart eyes but he really thought he was subtle about it.

“And by the color of your cheeks I think I touched a sensitive chord,” Clint says around a smile as well. “It’s okay you know. He’s hot.” 

“Yeah, yeah. You’re only playing nice because you want me to ask him about Natasha.” 

“That’s her name?” says Clint and there is a dreamy kind of look in his eyes now. Is he already gone for her after just one look? Well she does look kind of amazing, especially in those jeans but, she’s just… A bit too scary for Steve.  

“I’ll ask okay?”

He laughs a little at the bright smile taking over his friends features and he goes back to working on his essay, or more finally starting at it now that Bucky isn’t there distracting him. Clint stands up to grab some food for himself and soon enough, both of them are working on their respective assignments in silence even though Steve is pretty sure Clint is daydreaming about Natasha.

There is still a dreadful feeling inside of Steve’s chest because of what they talked about earlier. What if Bucky and Natasha really are together? What if that’s why she always looks so threatening to Steve, because she’s jealous and possessive about him?

But then, it doesn’t make sense with what happened earlier. What was the almost soft smile she gave them as they were laughing together when she walked in? She looked at Bucky like she was happy to see him hanging out with Steve. Maybe she was only happy he made a friend, maybe she doesn’t know Bucky is into men as well.

Or is he?

Nothing makes sense since he got back to school after his accident. Maybe his sexuality changed. Is that possible? That he forgot about it?

Oh God, Steve needs to stop thinking about all those crazy scenarios. He will have to ask Bucky, that’s all. It’s an easy thing to do, if he asks Bucky about Natasha and he confirms they are together, things would be settled. What Steve tries really hard not to think about is how that little piece of information could break more than one heart in the end.

 

 

-

 

 

When Thursday finally rolls in, a few days later, Steve is waiting in front of Bucky’s door (he actually knocked this time.) He is almost shaking with excitement. He missed Bucky, as crazy as it seems, in the few days they spent apart. He barely thought about their project, which they are suppose to start tonight, but he did think about Bucky a lot and convinced himself that Natasha and him were just good friends.

(Okay maybe he stalked them just a little bit on social media and looked closely whenever he saw them talk to each other, but nobody needs to know that.)

Steve is about to knock a second time when the door finally opens on a rather sleepy looking Bucky, in nothing but a pair of boxer and one over sized red sweater with sleeves so long they reach the knuckle of his good hand. The garment is long enough to reach the middle of Bucky’s quite muscular and delicious looking thighs.

He might not even be wearing boxers because Steve can’t see them. 

Or maybe he is just blinded by his newly found obsession for thighs. Steve never noticed anyone’s thighs before? 

Who knows it was a thing he was into but who exactly has such beautiful and exquisite thighs? It shouldn’t be allowed. 

“Aaw crap. I napped longer than I wanted to. Come in!” Bucky says, taking a few steps back inside his room, where we gets to his closet and pulls some grey sweatpants from it.

_Wow_ , Steve didn’t need to know what Bucky’s sleepy voice sounded like on top of everything else right now. The thighs, and the voice, and the ruffled hair. Steve only wants to get back in bed with him and just nap the rest of the day away. 

Bucky sits on his bed to put his feet through his pants and then stands up again and pulls them up with his only hand. It gives Steve a wonderful glimpse of dark and tight boxers stretching over Bucky’s hips. He quickly looks away, a bit scared of getting caught checking him out so freely. 

Bucky looks quite lost and confused and like all he wants is to fall face first on his bed again and go back to sleep for a few days or maybe even a few weeks. 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t get much sleep last night so I thought I could get some before you got here,” Bucky says and the last few words gets muffled in a yawn that he tries to hide behind his rose tattooed hand. 

“Went out?” 

“Nah just… I have some trouble sleeping sometimes.” 

Oh. _Nightmares_ Steve thinks. That’s probably why. 

Bucky pulls at the hair tie that was only holding a few strands, most of it was hanging out and around his beautiful sleepy face. He runs his hand through it and then, looks at the hair tie on his thigh with a frown. Then he looks up at Steve, biting nervously at his bottom lip and he _knows_ what Bucky is about to ask him but it doesn’t stop his heart from stuttering almost painfully in his chest. 

“Would you mind um, pulling it back up? Nat usually does it for me in the mornings but -” 

“Of course,” Steve interrupts, already taking the few steps separating them, walking closer to Bucky’s bed. He pulls at the strands of hair carefully, marvelling at their softness. Steve leaves a few out, to frame Bucky’s face. He does it on purpose because he loves the way it looks on Bucky but he hopes the other man thinks it is only an honest mistake. 

A result of Steve not being used to long hair and man buns. 

He ties the hair together, twisting the elastic a few times and then, nervously asks if it’s okay. Bucky smiles up at him and nods, lifting a few fingers to touch the little bun at the base of his neck.

 

 

“Thanks, Steve.”

Steve feels the familiar tingle in his fingers looking at Bucky in soft, oversized clothes. He has some pillow creases on his cheek. His eyes are still a bit puffy with sleep but also bright and unbothered like he forgot all the problems of the world with his little nap.  

It’s like he was dreaming of beautiful things for once, instead of having nightmares.  

He wants to pull the sketchbook out of his bag and just draw him, right here. Steve wants to sit before Bucky, on the carpeted floor of his room and draw him for hours and just let his hand traces the sleepy features on paper because he can’t do it for real. He can’t reach out and touch Bucky the way he really wants to. Not yet. Maybe not ever. 

Bucky starts to speak but it doesn’t stop the itch in Steve’s fingers. It makes it worse because he has a rough, scratchy voice when he just wakes up and he wants to more than just draw him, he wants to touch his fingers to his skin, probably still warm with sleep. 

Painting and sketching isn’t enough anymore. He craves to touch. 

“This week was slow so I took a lot of pictures. In color this time. So, if there something that catches your eye tell me. I tried to go in that “darkness to color” vibe you talked about,” Bucky says. He moved to his bag hanging from the hook behind his door to grab his camera and is now holding it for Steve to take.  

“Didn’t have time to load them to my computer, sorry.” 

“It’s okay,” Steve replies and their fingers softly brush when he grabs the camera from Bucky’s hand. He wants to outline that rose with his fingers so bad but, now is not the time.  

Not when he sits on the bed right next to Bucky and the other man leans closer so their shoulders are pressed together. Bucky comments on the pictures as Steve looks through each one of them but he is distracted. By the warmth and smell of Bucky right next to him, his voice too and how when he laughs it shakes from his body and right into Steve’s. 

He is distracted by how cute Bucky looks when he yawns or rubs at his eyes trying to chase the few remnants of sleep. 

The pictures are more than great and Steve can see it in his head already, what he would like to do with them. He should stand up and go get his sketchbook and start working on it, not to lose his ideas. He should get up but there is something incredibly comforting and addicting about Bucky’s presence. About finally being so close to him, in that almost intimate moment they are sharing. 

Bucky now has his chin almost on Steve’s shoulder as he is talking about the picture Steve stopped on and when he turns his head, they are so close. Steve feels his heart banging in his chest again and he tries really hard not to let his eyes linger on Bucky’s lips, a little bit dry and chapped with sleep. 

 

 

Bucky seems to suddenly realize how close they are because he frowns a little bit before straightening up and Steve never felt this cold before. It’s like someone ripped all the blanket of his bed at once, leaving him naked and vulnerable. 

“Sorry,” 

“Don’t be,” Steve says, pushing his shoulder into Bucky’s in what he hopes is a friendly way. He gives Bucky a smile too, for good measure, and then stands up and walks to the bag he left by the door to pick his sketchbook and a pencil before walking back to Bucky’s bed. 

He sits just as close as before, just because. 

Because it feels good to see Bucky comfortable and relaxed. It’s a nice change from him looking stiff and tense all the time as he walks down the school corridors, never looking at anyone but the tip of his boots or the shiny floors.

Because it feels good knowing Bucky is comfortable with _him_. 

He opens the sketchbook on his knees and starts doodling what comes to his mind, some rough outlines of what he might do. He feels Bucky lean closer to him again, looking at the sketchbook, making a few approving sounds once in awhile. 

“It’s witchcraft,” he mumbles at some point and it makes Steve laugh.  

When he looks at Bucky, the other man is already looking at him with a smile on his face and it makes Steve heart beats quicker. Again. _Always._  

It’s ridiculous how a simple look, a tiny smile, can affect him so much. 

“It’s not,” Steve replies, shaking his head too, willing his face to not turn pink at Bucky’s praises. 

“It is. You’re like some Harry Potter of art or something. Got the glasses and everything. You hiding a scar under that blond fringe, Rogers?” 

Steve closes the sketchbook with a loud smack and turns around to face Bucky, their knees touching now and there is a hint of mischief in Bucky’s eyes, like he trying really hard not to laugh. 

_God, he’s so beautiful._  

“Excuse me? Did you just make a Harry Potter reference?” 

“I sure did!” 

“So the tattoos and long hair and punk boots and leather jacket... It’s only for show? You’re a huge nerd aren’t you?” 

“Takes one to know one,” Bucky retort, pushing a finger right in the middle of Steve’s chest, with another kind of smile stretching his sinfully pink lips. A flirty kind. 

“Never once denied I was a nerd,” Steve says, pushing Bucky’s hand away just for the opportunity to touch him. 

Steve goes back to sketching and he really can’t wipe that stupid smile off his face as he does so. He can’t stop smiling when banter and teasing with Bucky feels so great. He can’t stop smiling when they are both curled up in Bucky’s bed, drawing and bringing pictures up on Bucky’s camera for future reference. 

How can he stop, really, when Bucky looks like some soft, rumpled kitten in his sleeping clothes.  

He is probably sure he would get punched if he said that aloud so he keeps it to himself. 

They work together for a few more hours, Steve ripping off more than a few pages from his sketchbook when his mind and his fingers can’t get along. Both might want to draw Bucky instead of working on their project but yeah, _not now, Steve_.  

_Not yet._ He thinks, with hope sparkling in his veins. 

It works just fine in the end. _They_ work just fine. The finally come with the rough draft of what their project might look like and Steve is more than a little excited to pick up a blank canvas and start painting.  

Bucky took a few notes for himself as well, of which picture they already decided to use and what he should do for their next meeting. He gave Steve a few shy suggestions about his sketches here and there as if scared to propose any changes. But Steve assured him it was more than fine, that they were working on this project together, after all. 

When Steve checks the time on his phone, it’s almost 10pm. They had worked for about four hours without even noticing how much time had passed. Even if there is only a few steps between the bed and the door, Bucky walks them with Steve, and he feels Bucky’s eyes on him the whole time as he put his stuff back in his bag and pulls it over his shoulder. 

He doesn’t want to leave. He’d rather fall back in bed with Bucky right here, hold him in his arms and chase the nightmares away. He doesn’t even want to have sex with him right now. Just cuddle and have the chance to touch his warm, soft skin and bury his face in the curve of Bucky’s neck. Trace his tattoos and maybe draw him a few more with the tip of his fingers. 

If he can steal a kiss at some point it would be great too. 

“Good night, Steve,” Bucky tells him, softly, with his smile reaching his greyish blue eyes. He looks less sleepy than he did when Steve first walked in but not any less beautiful. He couldn’t stop looking perfect even if he tried, really. 

Steve says good night back and then the door clicks shut behind him. But he can’t go to sleep, not yet. His fingers are still tingling. It’s like they never stop whenever he is close to Bucky.  

Inspiration runs through the blood in his veins whenever his heart pumps a bit faster due to every smile he gets from Bucky. It’s like he’s shooting sunshine right into Steve’s blood. The need for him to touch Bucky turns into the need to paint for hours and hours. Maybe he’ll paint Bucky this time, maybe it will help get him out of his system.

 

 

-

 

 

When he walks through the door of the studio Peggy is in there again, painting softly and slowly with her headphones on like she could paint the night away. Her hair is held up with a few colored pencil and there is not a drop of paint on her clothes when Steve usually ends up covered in all the colors he used. 

She is a neat, controlled painter where Steve is a mess.

She jumps a little when he walks close to her and she puts the brush down, dropping the headphones around her neck as well.

“I can see you still prefer to paint at night,” Steve says, putting his own canvas up and taking a few brushes out of his bag.

“Well it’s usually calmer when you’re not barging in there practically vibrating with badly concealed emotions, Steven.” 

Steve gives her a grimace because only she calls him Steven and he can’t say he is a big fan of it. He grabs some tubes of paint and starts mixing them to get the colors he wants but Peggy doesn’t start painting again, she’s just studying him. 

“Looks like you’re in a better mood than you were the other day.” 

“I am, yes. Thank you for the little note, by the way.” 

“Always, Steve. You can always talk to me, you know.” 

“I know,” Steve murmurs, balancing a brush between his fingers and taking a bit of blue paint and mixing it with white and just a little dollop of black to get the exact shade of Bucky’s stormy grey eyes. He starts painting but Peggy is still looking at him, 

“So you’re really not gonna tell me what was bothering you?” 

Steve sighs, not in annoyance, never at Peggy but, he knows he can’t ignore her questions, she is a very persistent person and she will ask until she gets the answers she wants. 

“You remember Bucky? James Barnes?” Steve finally gives her, his eyes still on his canvas and avoiding how her piercing brown eyes are looking straight through him. 

“Oh, of course!. Your crush on him was probably noticeable from the moon. You kept sketching him in all of your notebooks. You never told me what happened after he finally gave you his number.” 

“Well he left and then he came back two years later with no memory of me whatsoever so…” 

Peggy puts a hand on his shoulder, softly coaxing his hand away from the canvas. He turns around to face her, and the look on her face is a bit angry, 

“Are you kidding me? He doesn’t remember you at all? And you didn’t tell me?” 

Steve just shrugs, trying to turn back to his canvas and away from her because he hates what he sees in her yes, but she just holds on tighter, “Steve?” 

“He doesn’t okay? But we’re working on this project together and it’s good Peggy. Really good. And he’s great and I’m happy okay?” 

She looks at him for a few beats, still holding on his shoulders. Her eyes are studying his face like she’s trying to figure if there is some kind of lie in what he just told her. But there isn’t and Steve hopes it’s clear on his face how every word was nothing but the truth. 

It feels right, getting to know Bucky, spending time with him, but it does hurt a bit, the fact that he doesn’t remember Steve. But sometimes, it feels like he almost does. When he smiles at Steve and laughs at his dumb jokes. When he leans onto his shoulders and lets him tie his hair up.  

It’s like the Bucky from first year is back. Full of life. Giving Steve confident, cocky smiles and stealing glances at him in class. Winking at him sometimes from his table in the dining hall, making a pink blush stain Steve’s pale skin. It’s like they are chasing each other again. Almost. Except that this time, Steve mostly feels like he is the only one chasing. 

But it’s worth it.

 

-

 

 

Steve is laying in bed that morning, playing on his phone and enjoying the fact that he can actually take his whole Saturday off, doing nothing, without feeling bad. He is on time with his school work and his few art projects so really, he could just lay in bed all day watching Netflix if he wanted. Or nap.  

When was the last time he took a nap? He can’t even remember. 

But Sam said it was a lovely day and so does his weather app, the little sunny icon teasing him at the top of his screen. He also just woke up so, thinking about a nap might be a bit over the top right now. 

He is going through his emails and facebook notifications and playing a few games he has on his phone when Sam barges through their room with a very red in the face Bucky in tow. 

“I found him in the corridor,” Sam says throwing a wink Steve’s way before walking to his side of the room.  

Steve, consciously pulls the sheets a big higher to cover his naked chest but Bucky’s eyes are already stuck somewhere near his collarbone and the color of his cheeks gets instantly a few shades brighter.  

Steve feels his own face getting warmer and brighter with every passing second because he does remember going to bed with a very embarrassing pair of ratty Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles boxers. 

“‘Morning Bucky.” 

“I was just about to knock and Sam appeared out of nowhere and pulled me in, I’m sorry.” 

Steve hears Sam snickers from where he sits at his desk, softly typing on his laptop. Steve sits a bit straighter in his bed, careful to keep the sheet in place and put his phone back on the bed side table to focus his attention only on Bucky. 

“And you were about to knock for what exactly?” 

“Coffee. I was going out for coffee and thought maybe you would, um. You would like to come with me?” 

Steve smiles at him and he almost sees all of Bucky’s nervousness slip away from his face and shoulders as he smiles right back. He pushes a strand of hair behind his ear and looks around Steve’s side of the room, taking in all the sketches and pictures above his bed.  

Clearly trying to look anywhere but at Steve’s naked chest. 

“I just need to take a quick shower and dress, um…” Steve says as he motions to himself and the sheet covering him.  

Bucky’s eyebrows raises to his hairline and his lips part, his bright pink tongue licking at his bottom lip. His eyes traces the lines of Steve’s torso, almost painfully slow and he stares for a few seconds, without any hints of subtlety.  

Steve can see the way Bucky swallows, hard, when his eyes stops over his crotch and he can almost feel himself twitch under Bucky’s hungry eyes. 

Then, Bucky snaps out of it and turns his back to Steve as he starts rambling ; “Of course. I’ll be just outside. I have a book to read, I’ll just wait for you. Take your time, there’s no rush.” 

And the door closes behind him and Sam starts laughing like he was about to explode from holding it in. He laughs so hard Steve can’t even contain his own laughter even if a part of him is a bit confused as to why they are laughing. 

“What? What is so funny?” 

Sam wipes a few tears from his face before turning to Steve, “Listen, he was literally pacing in front of our door when I got here! It was like, he was looking for some courage to knock on our door, or something. And then he got all flustered about you in bed because he probably thought you were naked in there.” 

“I’m not!” 

“I know that. But it was pretty hilarious to watch him trying his best to will his boner away.” 

Steve throws one of his pillow at Sam’s head before getting to his drawer and grab some clean clothes. “Stop that. He wasn’t… It’s not-”’ 

“Sure Steve. If you say so,” Sam replies with a shake of his head, putting his earphones in and getting back to his work, opening a big textbook full with pictures of the human brain. 

Steve almost runs to the showers at the end of the corridor ( _after he got some pants on, he won’t go running in the dorms in his TMNT boxers, come on_ ) and washes himself quickly as well, trying not to think too much about Bucky waiting for him, as he rubs soap all over his body. 

_Not too much touching yourself while thinking about Bucky Barnes, Steve. Control yourself._  

He can’t think about the way Bucky looked at him earlier in his room and how it just help clear any doubts Steve had left about Bucky’s sexuality. One doesn’t look at a friend the way Bucky’s eyes were running down his chest while blushing like he did.  

Steve dries himself as fast as he can before getting back to his room and looking through his clothes for something decent to wear. He gives up on trying to fix his hair and shoves his wallet and phone in his pockets before yelling his goodbye to Sam who only waves a few fingers at Steve, still typing away and bobbing his head to the music he is listening to. 

When he gets out of the building, Bucky is sitting right there on the front step, with the hood of his sweater on his head and his nose in his book. He doesn’t even jump or move when Steve bangs the door open, cleary lost in the pages he is reading. 

“Buck?”  

He speaks the nickname without even noticing and Bucky lifts his head to look at Steve, squinting a bit in the sun and the corners of his mouth lifts in a lovely smile. His smile says Bucky didn’t mind the nickname, that he liked it. 

“Ready?” Bucky asks around his smile,  ‘“Sorry I woke you up, by the way,” he says, hiding his small book in the inside pocket of his leather jacket. 

“You didn’t. I was awake, just being lazy. Coffee sounds great, to be completely honest.” 

They spend a few hours in that coffee shop. Bucky orders a simple black coffee while Steve chooses the most sugary drink on the menu. When Bucky looks at his drink with a wrinkled nose, Steve pushes it towards him and he is not sure if it was a good idea when he finds himself transfixed by the sight of Bucky’s lips around the straw. 

And how he feels a wonderful shiver down his spine when his own mouth wraps around it as well just a few seconds later. 

They share a muffin when Bucky’s stomach starts to grumble after a few hours and his cup takes more than a few refills of coffee while Steve orders a cup of tea to chase the too sweet taste of caramel muffin from his tongue.  

They talk and they laugh and Bucky takes his book out at some point to show a passage to Steve that he particularly adore.  

“Your friend um, Natasha. Is she... I mean. Is she only a friend or…?” 

Steve finds the courage to ask at some point, after a nice fit of laughter, leaving them both breathless. Maybe he finds it in the brightness of Bucky’s eyes still shining with a few tears from laughing so loud. Maybe he finds it in the way those blue grey eyes looked down at his mouth before taking a sip of now cold coffee. 

Maybe he just find it in himself.

“Why? Your blond friend likes her?” Bucky says around a smirk, licking at his bottom lip like he is chasing the bitter taste of caffeine. Like maybe he is thinking about kissing Steve just as much as Steve is thinking about kissing him. 

But he is a bit speechless at being read so easily. Clint is nothing but subtle but still… What a pair of obvious idiots they make. 

“Uh… Yeah. Actually, he does likes her a lot.” 

“She told me he was cute the other day so, he should go for it.” 

Steve chuckles then, looking down at the table, a huge wave of relief washing over him, “Okay, I’ll tell him just that.” 

Bucky looks at him like he knows the question wasn’t only about Natasha and Clint but about Natasha and him too. But he says nothing, Bucky just keeps looking at Steve with his little smirk, they keep talking about everything and nothing. Small talk between two boys learning to know each other better. Small talk to forget about how much he wants to lean across their table and close the distance between their lips and have a taste of bitter caffeine right from Bucky’s warm tongue. 

The sun makes everything shine bright in the little coffee shop.  Just like Bucky makes everything shine bright inside of Steve’s mind. 

 

 

-

 

 

Bucky texts him less than an hour after they part ways that day, and it’s all downhill from there because after that, they text pretty much all day, every day. Steve never leaves his phone too far in case he misses a reply from Bucky and of course, like it’s his only purpose in life, Sam makes fun of him for it.  

_He just likes texting Bucky okay? This is no big deal._  

Except, it kind of is a big deal, and Steve’s heart flutters in his chest with every vibration of his phone in the palm of his hand. It’s like they are connected in some way and he can feel the vibration all over his body. They text about the most mundane stuff, like a funny shaped cloud Bucky saw one morning ( _It was shaped like a cactus Steve, like for real_ ) straight to talking about that class Bucky had about feminism through literature and how interesting it was.  

Through their conversation that day, Steve learns Bucky has a sister. Just by reading his texts, Steve learns how protective he is of her and how important she is to Bucky. Steve also learns that she is just a few years younger than him and that he has so much respect and admiration for her. ( _She just has an opinion on literally everything I swear, she reads so much and she is so interested by all the things happening all over the world._ ) 

Steve loves to learn these little things about Bucky’s life. It’s almost like he’s reading him, like Bucky turns into a book himself, since he loves them so much. Every text is like a new page of Bucky’s book. And with each page that Steve turns, he learns a new thing about the other man.  

Every opportunity he gets to spend time with Bucky sends the butterflies in his stomach flying around in a frenzy of happiness. 

Because they hang out a lot more too, going for a cup of coffee in the mornings and working on their project as well, studying in the library together sometimes and just... Spending time together, really, and being friends is more than nice even if Steve always hopes for more.  

Sometimes they just hang out to do absolutely nothing productive, Steve sketches and Bucky reads and they are both enjoying the silence together. Enjoying the calm the other’s presence brings  them. 

It’s awesome and Steve loves every single second of it.  

What is also a wonderful thing to see is Bucky opening up under his eyes. To see how comfortable he is slowly getting around him. How he is always reaching to touch Steve when he wants his attention, how he leans into him when he laughs too hard. How he speaks a little more about before and even if the whole story is still a bit foggy, Steve does learn a few bits here and there. 

About an accident and a lot of time in the hospital. About nightmares and insomnia. 

Steve finds reasons to make Bucky laugh. He also pretends, sometimes, not to hear him when Bucky says his name. Because he wants Bucky to touch him, he wants him to get closer and put his hand on his shoulder and speak his name again. He is scared about doing it himself, touching Bucky. He doesn’t know what the accident was exactly nor if Bucky is comfortable with his body, his scars. So he gets his fix when Bucky touches him, a few fingers on his hip, a gentle squeeze of a shoulder, a grip on his knee when Bucky is laughing so hard he can’t breathe. 

Steve meets Natasha officially, one night, when he gets the courage to bring his laptop to Bucky’s room asking him if he wants to watch a movie with him. Natasha was there already, opening the door for Steve. They spoke a little but as soon as Steve talked about why he was there she gave them both a knowing smile and grabbed her jacket and left them alone.  

All throughout the movie, as they sit right next to each other on Bucky’s bed, their thighs are touching. From their hip to their knee. Steve is painfully reminded of Bucky’s thighs and how strong they look and feel in his skinny jeans. He thinks of how soft they looked that time he saw him half naked after his nap. Steve can’t really concentrate on the movie because all he can feel is the warmth of Bucky’s body next to him.  

He wants to put his hand on the inside of Bucky’s leg and just run a few fingers up the inner seam of his jeans. He wants to know if it would send a shiver through the brown haired man’s body. If he would open his legs wider to give more space to Steve’s seeking hands.  

Good thing he’s already seen the movie because he isn’t paying attention to it, _at all_. 

Just before he leaves Bucky’s room that night, he gets wrapped in a one armed hug by the other man. Without a word, Bucky throws his arm around Steve’s middle and pulls him closer so he can push his face against Steve’s neck. It’s quick, too quick, but Steve shivers anyway  when Bucky’s says good night right against the sensitive skin of his throat.  

Bucky doesn’t meet his eyes when he pulls away but there is a little smile on his lips and Steve knows he is smiling too.  

 

 

-

 

 

And of course, it’s because everything was too good to be true that it all goes to hell the next time they work on their project together.  

They are in the studio this time, because they needed more space than Bucky’s room. He got a bit frantic, talking about feeling too cramped in there and was looking a bit more nervous than usual. He opened the door for Steve and his smile was weird, a bit tense and not reaching his eyes. Fake.  

Steve easily agreed to Bucky’s request, hoping it would help him to calm down, and they walked to the studio together, in almost complete silence. 

Something is off with Bucky but Steve prefers not to mention it. Maybe it will pass, he thinks. 

Bucky is sitting on the floor next to Steve now, surrounded by pictures as Steve is sketching on the canvas with a pencil. They put some music on Steve’s phone and Bucky is angrily putting some pictures away, discarding them from the pile they previously decided to keep. His leg keeps jiggling nervously and he heaves frustrated sighs every once in a while as he flips a picture away. 

Something is still off.  

Steve is distracted by it, he is deeply worried too and he can’t draw, can’t concentrate anymore knowing Bucky is upset. He frowns down at the brown haired man, but Bucky is too lost in his task to even notice Steve is now staring at him with concern.  

Bucky looks like he’s angry at the pictures in his hand as he throws them away, biting harshly at his bottom lip, frowning like each shot personally offended him. He is breathing a bit fast, his chest going up and down at a quicker pace than it usually does. 

“Bucky, what are you doing?” Steve asks, voice full of concern at seeing the other man working himself into a breakdown over a few innocent black and white photos. 

Bucky hears him because his whole body suddenly gets tense and the knuckles on his hand, even under the ink, almost turn white with how hard his fingers squeeze his knee. He stops shaking his leg too but his breathing doesn’t slow down. 

“I don’t like them anymore,” Bucky complains through gritted teeth.  

“But we picked them together, they were perfect before,” Steve tries to keep his voice calm and steady but he really doesn’t understand what’s happening. 

“I said _I don’t like them_ , Steve, are you deaf? I thought _I_ was the invalid one here” Bucky snaps at Steve’s, his voice cold as ice as he abruptly stands up and turns his back to the blond man. 

Steve feels like the ice in Bucky’s voice has dropped all over him with the chill taking over his blood and bones. He’s never snapped at him before. Steve is scared he might be the one Bucky is angry at, that he did something to offend him without realizing it. 

Bucky’s shoulders are tense, they haven’t relaxed since he opened the door of his room a few hours ago. He’s trying to control himself, taking deep inhales like he wants to calm down but is completely failing, like he’s quickly losing control to the panic spreading inside of him. 

Steve really wants to help him but he doesn’t know how. Does he have to give him space, or not? Does he have to leave him alone? Is it safe? Can he reach for him, and touch him or will it make everything worse?  

But most of all, Steve hates how not knowing makes him angry because now is clearly not the time to get angry at Bucky with how upset he is. Now is not the time to let his pride and his ego take control.  

He tries to remember Sam’s advice and to speak softly to him, asking him questions about how he feels, instead of acting like how he feels is wrong. Steve takes a deep, calming breath himself and asks, “Why don’t you like them anymore, Buck?” 

The other man just shakes his head, refusing to talk or to turn around and speak to Steve.  

“Please, Bucky, you know you can talk to me, right?” Steve says, his voice a bit shaky because it’s a bit scary to see Bucky like this. He was doing so well lately. What happened?  Steve is scared he might be the one who did something bad, who triggered Bucky’s episode. Something he said? When he touched Bucky's shoulder earlier? But there is also clearly something in the pictures that set Bucky off and Steve wants to know what. He wants to help. But he also doesn’t want to push Bucky too far. 

“Talk to me, please, I don’t care about the pictures. I just wanna know what you’re feeling,” Steve says and he reaches a hand to Bucky’s shoulder but sadly, he doesn’t think before he moves and he reaches for the shoulder where the arm is missing. Bucky flinches so violently that Steve is scared the brown haired man might hit him.  

“ _Don’t touch me right now_ ,” Bucky hisses at him, even taking a step away, putting more distance between them, “I don’t wanna talk right now, I just need to calm down.” 

“Can I help you with that?” Steve asks and without thinking he lifts a hand for Bucky again, but with the anger in Bucky’s eyes, he quickly lets it drop to his side. 

It hurts so bad to hear Bucky talk to him with that voice, to see his blue eyes so cold, suddenly scary and empty. It’s like all the previous weeks just disappeared and they are back to being complete strangers and _fuck_ … He can’t lose Bucky again, okay?  Steve should stay calm, he really should but when you’re hurting as much as he is right now well, you do stupid things.  

Like yell at someone who is already clearly in a bad state of mind. 

“Why?! Why won’t you just talk to me about what is bothering you? I just wanna help you Bucky, for fuck’s sake! Just tell me!” 

“I can’t okay?! I couldn’t talk even if I wanted too because I get choked up and get panic attacks and it’s like the accident all over again! You don’t fucking understand Steve so don’t pretend you can help because you can’t! You don’t get nightmares at night that wake you up and leave you drenched in sweat and unable to fall back to sleep. You didn’t lose a fucking limb and still feel it like it’s still attached to your body sometimes but, when you want to raise a hand and grab something, or touch someone, there is fucking NOTHING! You’re not covered in ugly scars and have to face the disgust in people’s face when they look at you. I look at some of these pictures and my chest gets so tight I feel like crying and screaming and I don’t know _why_ okay? I don’t even remember taking most of these! I don’t _know_ so I can’t tell!” 

“Bucky I’m -” 

And it’s Steve’s turn to be choked up, to feel like screaming, but at himself this time.  

Of course he can’t help. He can’t even speak right now, just looking at Bucky’s red face and the way his hand his shaking... He feels that hurt inside of his chest again but it’s not anger anymore. Or at least he is not angry at Bucky but at himself. _You can’t save him just because you want him to be okay Steve, you’re being selfish here._  

“Bye Steve” 

Bucky grabs his bag and his jacket and leaves all the pictures on the floor, even the little pile of discarded ones, and just leaves the room, the door banging shut behind him. Steve falls to his knees then, head in his hands, “Fuck…” 

He sits there motionless for a while trying to will his heartbeat back to normal because it started banging in his ears as soon as Bucky started yelling at him and it’s still going strong.  

Bucky was right, he knows nothing of what happened and he had no right to yell. He should have just dropped it and let Bucky calm down and throw the pictures in the trash. They still have time to take other ones. It shouldn’t have gone out of control like it did.  

But he kept pushing and now Bucky is gone.  

He takes the images Bucky put away and looks through them, trying to understand what triggered Bucky bad enough to want to throw them away.  

There are a few of the darker ones they picked and Steve knows that in the pile, there are a few Bucky had in his computer before they started working together. There are a lot of black and white shots that are more black than white and there isn’t much light in them. Steve can feel knots in his stomach just looking at them. He thinks he understands why they reminded Bucky of bad stuff from before and now he feels like such an asshole... 

He looks back at his canvas and he really isn’t in the mood to keep drawing tonight, he really isn’t in the mood for anything, to be honest, he feels awful.  

He carefully picks the pictures they intended to keep and puts them in the inside pocket of his bag. He can’t find it in himself to throw the other ones away so he keeps them as well, making a little pile which he hides in the pocket of his coat.  

He puts the canvas away with the rest of his stuff and turns off the studio lights behind him before locking the door and walking out of the art building. 

It’s cold outside so he pulls his hood up over his head and hides his hands in his pockets, fingers curling around the pictures and he feels a wave of guilt again, thinking about Bucky.  

Steve stops in front of Bucky’s door when he gets to their dorm and thinks about knocking and apologize and _fuck_ … Steve just wants to hug him and say he’s sorry and make Bucky smile again. He wants to take back everything he said and just, go back to a few hours ago when everything was still great.  

Or kind of… He did notice Bucky’s mood was off as soon as they got together earlier.

He walks past the door to his own, though, but not before sending a quick sorry text to Bucky because he is a coward like that and he can’t face the man, not yet. He doesn’t think Bucky wants to see him anyway, he is probably too angry to talk now but so much guilt fills Steve’s chest that he has to at least do a little something.

And his little something is gonna be a small and shitty sorry text.

Sam is still awake when he makes his way in their room and it only takes him one look Steve’s way to notice something is off. He saves his file and then clicks his laptop shut before walking closer to Steve and wrapping an arm around his shoulders, “Dude what happened?”

Steve might cry. He is really close to just bursting into tears with how gentle Sam’s voice is after all the yelling and the anger in Bucky’s voice earlier. It feels so nice not having someone screaming at him, it even calms down his own inner self pitying a little. 

“I’m an asshole,” Steve manages to say, his voice thick. 

“You are not, that’s Barton. You’re the weird punk ass hipster one, I am the incredibly handsome one and Clint is the asshole. That’s our gang,” Sam jokes with a tiny smile and Steve, he really, really tries to smile but all he manages is some weird grimace, “Okay, tell me what happened,” Sam continues. 

Steve sits on his bed and Sam helps him remove his jacket, takes his snapback off as well and hangs them on the little hook behind their door. Then he walks back to Steve and sits right next to him, rubbing comforting circles on his back and trying to comfort him as best as he can. Steve takes a deep breath and just like that, months of keeping things to himself starts flowing out of his mouth before he can stop it. 

He talks about how in first year, he had a few classes with Bucky and how they kept stealing glances at each other. How Steve’s sketchbooks were filled with drawing and doodles of Bucky. He was barely listening in those classes, too busy staring at Bucky’s strong jawline or the cute little dip in his chin.  

They smiled at each other sometimes, in the corridors or as Bucky was walking from his seat in the front row to the door at the end of the lectures and how every smile was setting fire to Steve’s face as well as him entire body.  

They were both in college and still, Steve felt like it was his very first crush. The first boy he laid eyes on and thought _Oh. That works for me too_. It was the same thrill, the same feeling. 

One day Bucky finally stopped right next to Steve’s desk. Steve was so deep in his sketching that day because Bucky sat closer than usual, giving him the perfect view to finish the piece he had started the week before. So he didn’t notice Bucky standing right next to him. Didn’t notice Bucky wasn’t looking at him but at the open sketchbook in front of Steve.

When Bucky cleared his throat, Steve almost fell out of his seat, almost combusted right there where he sat too, with how embarrassed he was at getting caught. He did try to close the sketchbook and act like nothing happened but, Bucky only smiled at him, with a very noticeable blush on his cheeks. He pointed at Steve’s sketch and praised him on how good he was, how he truly didn’t believe he looked that handsome in real life.

Then he picked one of Steve’s pens and leaned closer, way too close, maybe not close enough... And he wrote his number at the bottom of the page, right under his portrait.

He winked at Steve and left the classroom and Steve was in heaven because he finally got the number of his crush. Without having to ask for it, that is. He willingly gave it to him and he remembers how happy he felt because it meant Bucky was interested in him as well.

But Bucky wasn’t there the next day, or for the rest of the week. He wasn’t there the second week either and when Steve finally got the courage to call him, he learned that the number got disconnected. He can almost still hear the voice “ _The number you have reached is not in service._ ”  

And Bucky never came back to school that year. Or the next.

He did come back this year but with no recollection of Steve at all, it seems. When they got paired up for that project and they started talking and hanging out... It was perfect really. Steve’s feelings were coming back full force though, it was like they never really left, coming back and growing stronger and stronger with each day.  

That brings him to the present, in his and Sam’s room, where Steve just fucked up real bad and Bucky is angry at him and he truly feels miserable.  

It does feel good though, to finally talk about it. Talk about how angry he was at Bucky at first only because he was so upset that the other man didn’t remember him. Steve knows they barely had a thing, they just talked a few times, a few smiles and then he got Bucky’s number but… Bucky is special. He always felt special and different for Steve. Important in some way. As a muse, yes, because nothing ever gave Steve more inspiration than a few look in Bucky’s way but… It’s also more than that. 

So it hurts knowing he might have lost someone so important because he was too selfish, and stupid and _so dramatic_. He can almost hear Peggy’s voice telling him just that. 

“You didn’t lose him, you moron. You hurt him, yes. But it’s nothing that you can’t fix, come on!”

 

 

-

 

 

The next day, in some burst of stupid courage, Steve went knocking on Bucky’s door to give him the pictures back and also to apologize in person.

And maybe wrap him up in one of his famous hugs. He’s been told they were some great mood lifters and Steve hoped maybe it could just magically fix this thing between Bucky and him. He could maybe lift his own mood as well as Bucky’s.

But even if he heard movement coming from inside Bucky’s room, the door stayed closed between them.  

He stayed there, motionless, for way too long, staring at the cracked navy blue paint of the door, listening for any more movements, for a sign Bucky was there, that he was okay. That Steve didn’t hurt him too bad.

Some loud noise at the end of the corridor made him move, taking a step back from the door and shaking himself out of it. Bucky clearly isn’t ready to talk to him yet and, to be completely honest, Steve is not sure he is either. He feels guilty, yes. For yelling and for pushing and for being selfish. And maybe he wants to talk to him just to ease a bit of that guilt squeezing at his heart but, with how shaken up Bucky was last night when they parted ways, Steve needs to give him time.

He does need a little introspection himself, to think this through.

He needs to stop being so self centered and take Bucky’s problems more seriously. Just because when they hang out he seems fine, it doesn’t mean he is completely okay. And it’s okay, that he isn’t, because walking back into the light, like they are trying to show with their project, takes time.  

But Steve knows about the nightmares, he heard Bucky complain more than once about sleeping troubles. He knows sometimes he stares into the distance and gets lost in his own head.  

He knows that and yet, he wanted to know more, too much, and he pushed too far. 

It also makes Steve realize that there are probably so many things he still doesn’t know about Bucky. Like, Steve never thought anxiety and panic attacks were a part of Bucky’s life before last night. 

Sam told him that just because we might have feelings for someone, it doesn’t magically fix them. Sometimes the cracks go deeper than we think. Of course, Sam is right. 

When he walks past his own room on his way back, Sam slips his head out of the door with his eyebrows raised in a silent question but Steve only shakes his head as a reply. He needs some fresh air, he needs to paint, run, scream, whatever. He needs to do _something_. 

He ends up running to the studio, reaching the building sweaty and out of breath. It doesn’t help the tightness he feels in his chest, neither does painting because he can’t even manage to do that. He stares at the canvas for what seems like forever and he can’t even brush paint on it because nothing feels right. Because every color reminds him of Bucky. 

He goes to the gym then, and he works out until his muscles hurts as much as his heart does, until he feels numb with it. Clint walks in at some point and looks at him with worry in his eyes but doesn’t ask anything. Steve does see him pick up his phone though, probably texting Sam and asking him what is wrong. 

Clint says nothing about it but he does announce they are going for beers that night and by his tone, Steve knows he can’t really argue with him. It could be a nice way to keep his mind off Bucky though so Steve takes a shower and puts on his best clothes and goes to drink with his two best friends. 

They try to distract him, flirting stupidly with girls and bringing beers and shooters to their table, trying to talk Steve into going over to the cute brunette who keeps smiling at him. They try, they really do try to make him feel better. 

But to be fair, alcohol solves nothing at all and he comes back home drunk and more miserable than when he left. Clint even gives him a hug before they part ways, telling him that things are going to get better. All it does is make Steve’s throat go a bit tighter and he swears he is not going to cry in front of Clint but it really is a close call.  

He loves his friend so much. 

“Love you too, Rogers,” Clint tells him with a small smile. 

The last thought going through Steve’s foggy mind that night, before he falls asleep, is that he misses Bucky’s smile, that nobody smile is as pretty as Bucky’s. 

Steve is so drunk.

 

 

-

 

 

 

It goes on for days.

Steve tries to text Bucky a few more times but what he gets is complete silence, no reply at all. He doesn’t even try to go and knock on the other man’s door when Thursday come because he knows Bucky won’t answer.

Steve tries his best to take his mind off Bucky, losing himself in school assignments and spending an unhealthy amount of time in the library.  

(Even though there is nothing unhealthy about the library per se, but the amount of coffee and junk food he consumes while in there is definitely not healthy.)

He tries to balance it all by spending a lot of time at the gym too, but neither Sam or Clint want to got with him anymore.

He sees Bucky in the library at some point, walking in, but as soon as he spots Steve he turns back around and goes out, taking Steve’s poor broken heart with him as he does.

When it’s almost been two weeks of silence, Natasha walks in the dining hall, her heels clicking hard and fast on the linoleums floors. She is walking straight to Steve and Clint’s table and there is a rage in her eyes, making Steve regret all the times he thought he was scared of her. Because right now, she looks absolutely terrifying.

“You!” she says, finger pointing at Steve’s chest, and it looks even more intimidating with her long, shiny red fingernails. 

“He is completely miserable because of you! What have you done to him? He won’t tell me but I know it’s because of you!”

The truth is, Steve barely slept the last few nights, tossing and turning and most of all _thinking_. So he is a bit confused as to why Natasha is yelling at him, why is she so angry at him? He is the one who is sad and miserable, who is she talking about? And why is it Steve’s fault most of all?

“Who?”

“Did you really just had the nerves to ask me WHO I was referring too, Rogers?”

“Um. Yes?”

“BUCKY! Bucky is miserable, what have you done?”

“He is the one who is angry at me…” Steve mumbles but before Natasha could yell even more at him, Clint interrupts the both of them :

“Excuse me? As hot as you look all angry and yelling at my best friend, may I say a word? Because look at him? Doesn’t he look miserable too?”

“It is none of your damn business,” Natasha snaps then, her cheeks turning a bit pink, from anger or from Clint’s compliment, Steve doesn’t know.

“But it is. Because my best friend here, is miserable because of your best friend. And you are yelling at him right now and I can’t let that happen because he is already sad and depressed and you’re not helping at all. He tried, talking to Bucky. Bucky is not answering any of his calls or opening his door to him. So I get why you’re here, defending his honor and everything but, maybe they need to talk about this themselves? 

Steve must be in a very, very bad state of mind because, since when Clint is making so much sense? Is having a crush on Natasha changed him that much?

Nah, clearly he’s talking shit just to impress her.

Natasha turns to Steve then and he visibly sees her deflate, her shoulders relaxing. She’s still frowning but more in concern this time, her anger slowly drifting away.

“You did?” she inquires, “You tried to get to him?”

Steve only nods, getting painfully reminded that all of his attempts at talking to Bucky didn’t work

“What happened?” she asks, her voice now surprisingly soft. She sits next to them and from the corner of his eye, he sees Clint shifting a bit closer to her.

“We fought…”

“Yeah, that I am aware but… Why? Did he go into an episode? He gets a bit of a temper when he does… And he’s been having a lot of nightmares lately, which never helps.”

“We…” Steve clears his throat, voice suddenly thick, “We were working on our project and some of his pictures… He got angry looking at them… He was tense and angry right from the start but the pictures somehow made it worse? I wanted to help but I pushed too far so he got angry, and I got angry and yelled at him so he left and… He hasn’t talk to me since.”

Natasha puts a comforting hand on Steve’s arm.

“You really wanna help him, Steve?”

“I do! I… I really like him,” he knows his signature blush is betraying him, but that’s the truth. He wants Natasha to know he won’t do any harm to Bucky, that his intentions are good even if he is a bit clumsy at showing how much he cares. “I get that I can’t just snap my fingers and fix him but… I’d like to be here for him, if he’d let me.”

“Now, how can I stay mad at you, Rogers?” she says around a smirk and Steve gives her a little smile of his own.

“Sooooo,” Clint’s voice says from where he is still next to them, “Now that this is settled, you got any plans for tonight?”

There you go. Good old Clint is back.

“Pick me up at 8. And don’t you dare be late,” Natasha replies before standing up and walking away from them. Steve suspects she’s swaying her hips a bit more than usual and a look to Clint and his dreamy eyes confirms it.

“Can’t believe you managed to get a date with her after all this.”

“Take notes, Rogers, you have a Bucky to win back, after all!”

It doesn’t take much more encouragement than that from his friend for Steve to walk back to his dorm and get the envelope full of pictures from his room. Then, he goes back to knocking on Bucky’s door again. 

Just like the previous times, he is met with complete silence.

He looks around the corridor and there is nobody else in there so he takes one steadying breath and start talking.

To Bucky’s door.

With hopefully in the flesh Bucky right behind it, listening to him.

“I’m sorry, Buck. I know I keep saying that, but I am. I was a total asshole I just… I shouldn’t have yelled at you. I shouldn’t have gotten angry either. But I want to help so much, it makes me upset knowing that I can’t. I probably made you feel like who you are now, is not enough, is wrong or something and… God Bucky, it’s not true! Who you are now, is so much stronger than before because you went through all of these horrible things. You came back bruised and a bit broken and still, you’re so strong through all this. And I wouldn’t change a thing of what happened even if I sound awful saying this because it shaped you into the person you are now. And that is one incredibly beautiful person. I don’t care about the nightmares, and the scars. I don’t care you have only one arm left… You’re still the only person I see. Also, it’s okay if you don’t feel the same things I do. I’m tired of hiding it and I want to be honest with you. I _like_ you Bucky. So much. I got angry because I see nothing wrong with you and I hope so hard that you could see yourself the way I do. I would understand if you wanted to finish the project apart, I really would. I’ll leave you the envelope with the images you left behind the other night, because those pictures are amazing and I don’t want to lose them so.... I’ll be at the studio all weekend, in case you change your mind...”

 

 

 

-

 

 

Steve spent the whole day in the studio on Saturday without any sign of Bucky.

Peggy stopped by in the afternoon with some food for him and she distracted him for awhile. She worked on a few of her projects as well. It was nice spending time with her. Steve forgot how grounding she could be. He loves hanging out with Clint and Sam of course but, there is this silent atmosphere with Peggy where they can just stay there and paint in total peace and it still feels like they talked all afternoon, but with their colors and paint brushes. He felt a bit better when she left, more relaxed. More at peace with himself.

He left pretty late though, still waiting and hoping that Bucky would show up at some point, but sadly he didn’t.

But even after getting to bed late, he is up early on Sunday morning. On his way back to the studio, he stops to buy himself the biggest coffee they were selling at the little coffee shop he loves so much.  

Steve lets Darcy, the girl working that morning, talk him into buying one of those delicious looking lemon and poppy seed muffins. 

_“They are still warm Steve, I just baked them, come on.”_  

At the studio, he sits on the window sill and enjoys the bright Sunday morning, savoring for once how calm the campus is when everybody is still sleeping. Everybody was probably up all night, partying and drinking and having fun while he was lying in bed trying to get some sleep. Usually it’s a never ending moving scenery, with people walking from building to building, lounging in the parks or on the big concrete stairs of the library building. 

But today, it almost feels like a ghost town and Steve is the only person living here.  

Except when all of sudden, he can hear someone’s steps walking down the corridor.  

Someone’s heavy boots are walking closer and closer and squeaking on the old shiny floor of the art building. Someone is coming his way. Steve holds his breath, mouth still full of muffin and he looks at the door with wide expectant eyes. 

Could it be… 

Bucky’s silhouette appears in the doorway and Steve almost chokes on his food and drops his coffee just from looking at him. 

He missed him so much, no matter how ridiculous that sounds. Plus, he looks so good Steve might just die on the spot.  

Bucky is wearing his black leather boots and dark skinny jeans making his legs and thighs look delightful as always. His black hoodie, with the hood on, hides his long hair and on top of it he is wearing his signature leather jacket with all the zippers and pins. There is a glove on his hand,  because autumn is officially here now and the air smells more and more like winter.

Around his neck this time is a dark red scarf and his eyes are just… They look different today. But most of all they look a bit sad as Bucky is standing there, staring at Steve. They look more grey than blue, a bit like the ocean does right before a storm.

Steve really hopes the storm is over though, he’s not ready for another fight with Bucky. He’s tired of it.

Steve manages to swallow his food properly, as Bucky looks uncomfortable standing there, shuffling from one foot to the other. He says hello to Steve, voice no louder than a whisper and he also sounds a bit rougher than usual, like he’s been out all night and just got back. 

That’s when Steve notices what is different with Bucky’s eyes, there is some darkness around the lashes, like he put some makeup on? Some eyeliner maybe and _fuck_ … Steve didn’t know he was into that until now but it does something amazing to Bucky’s features.

“Are you wearing eyeliner?” is what he finally answers to Bucky’s greeting because yeah, Steve Rogers is smooth like that, you know? 

“Ugh,” Bucky grunts in reply, finally taking a few careful steps into the room and closer to Steve, “That is Nat’s fault. She wanted to try some on me last night and I can’t get it off. I don’t have the good stuff she have to remove makeup and I just can’t get it all off…” 

“Please don’t” is what Steve retorts to Bucky’s makeup problem, “Please wear some every day from now on.” 

Bucky is fighting a smile now, blush taking over his cheeks, noticeable even under the hood he still has on his head. Steve takes it as a small victory.  

“You like that, huh?” Bucky inquires, his smile turning into a flirty kind of smirk and Steve thinks Bucky was definitely there the other night listening to his desperate little speech. Listening to Steve pour his heart out to him. 

How he liked him. 

“Very much, yes.” 

Bucky shakes his head, like he thinks Steve is ridiculous, like it’s not easy for him to comprehend Steve might like him. The smile falls off his face quickly though, and he turns to Steve with a frown, “Why didn’t you tell me we knew each other before… Before this,” Bucky gestures to his missing arm. 

Steve is a bit startled by the change of topic. He thought they were going to talk about the fight they had the other week, not about what happened a few years ago. Does Bucky finally remember him?? 

“Excuse me?” 

Bucky opens his leather jacket and digs into the inside pocket, taking a handful of pictures that he hands out to Steve. He is still frowning and avoiding Steve’s eyes when he adds, “I found these in some file on my laptop…” 

Steve takes them with shaky fingers and starts looking through them.  

It’s him. 

About a dozen pictures of Steve, his hair in a buzzcut like he had it in first year. He doesn’t look much different or even younger because it’s not that long ago. Just less hair and a few missing silver loops in his ears. 

The strange thing it that, on every single shot, Steve is completely unaware of being photographed.  They are taken from afar, and Steve would have remembered posing for Bucky at some point. They talked for the very first time in class that day, so really if Bucky would have taken pictures of him he would have known. 

But he didn’t. There are shots of him talking with Peggy, laughing with Sam, frowning into his sketchbook, reading comics, studying with Clint in the library. 

“What is this?” he asks Bucky, his eyes still glued to the portraits of himself because, he has to admit he looks quite incredible in every single one of these shots. He looks happy and radiant and on that shot, where is is sitting in the grass with Sam, his hair look like it’s made of gold under the burning light of the sun. 

“Pictures of you?” Bucky says, his features turning into an uncomfortable grimace, “Old ones if I take in the haircut but… Steve. I, it’s not easy to talk about it but, I have memory loss okay? Big chunk of my life before the accident are gone. So I don’t remember taking any of those pictures. And I am sorry I haven’t told you because I hate talking about it... I feel like I am disappointing people so much when I say _Yeah sorry I don’t remember you_. So tell me why do I feel like I know you from before? Like… I am so comfortable with you Steve? I was, right from the start and it confuses me because since I’ve gotten back I am so awkward with literally everyone else. I don’t know how to behave around people. But not with you. Never with you. Meeting you was like, getting back into an old shirt that used to be my favorite. I felt like maybe we knew each other but you said we didn’t. You told me we never met and then I find those pictures and I am… So confused.”

“Barely,” Steve says before clearing his throat. “I mean, we barely knew each other. We smiled at each other a lot and had a few classes together but we didn’t properly know each other. Until… Well you gave me your number one day but you disappeared completely after that. I think it was only a few days before your accident and… You came back with no recollection of me so…”

“Why did you lie, then? You didn’t think it was important to remind me?” 

Steve is about to say something he thinks he never said out loud before but really, he needs to completely come clean to Bucky now, because he needs to be honest with him. Lying to him did nothing good to the both of them so, now is the time for Steve to lay all of his cards on the table.

“I thought I probably wasn’t important enough if you didn’t remember me… Just a random dude you gave your number to.” Steve says those words out loud yes but, he can’t look at Bucky while he does because it’s ridiculous. He can’t admit that kind of childish thing to someone who suffers from amnesia can he? But it’s the truth. He felt like his crush was childish and ridiculous and that for Bucky, beautiful, charming Bucky, he was just another boy to give his number to. Bucky might have dozens of people begging for his attention so who was Steve really, apart from some hipster nerd who was always hiding in his sketchbook?

“Oh my God, Steve! I forgot stuff about my own family! About my little sister who is like the most important person in my life! Me being messed up doesn’t mean something is wrong with you as well. The fact that I don’t remember you from before, it doesn’t mean you’re not important, because honestly, I never took that much pictures of some random stranger for fun.”

“You’re not messed up!” Steve says to stop him, to stop his face from growing hot knowing the pictures in his hand mean so much more than he thought.

“Yeah, just a little…” Bucky replies with a sad smile. He moves closer to Steve, though, which is a good thing. He didn’t run away from him yet.

“Are you still mad at me?” Steve inquires, taking a chance and moving closer to Bucky as well. He needs to see that eyeliner up close. He needs to feel the warmth coming from him, to get a smell of his cologne he loves so much. He needs to get any glimpses of Bucky he can have. He missed him so much.

Bucky shakes his head, his hood slipping revealing a few strands of hair which he tucks behind his ear. He takes his glove off, pushing it in the pocket of his jacket and then he reaches his hand for Steve. The air around them turns a bit warmer suddenly, it goes electric around them when Bucky intertwines his inked fingers with Steve’s paint stained ones. 

“No… I was never really mad at you to be completely honest. I was mad at myself for having that break down in front of you. For being weak.”

Steve pulls Bucky closer by their joined hands and wraps his free arm around Bucky’s shoulder, enjoying the solid presence of Bucky’s body against him.

“You’re not weak. And I’m still sorry I got angry. I shouldn’t have yelled at you.” 

Bucky lets go of Steve’s hand but only to wrap his good arm around his torso and push his face against the skin between Steve’s shoulder and neck. Steve thinks Bucky might like that spot a lot because it's not the first time he's doing this. Bucky smiles right there and it makes goosebumps run down Steve’s spine. It feels like Bucky might have missed Steve just as much and the goosebumps turn into something hotter and thicker running in his blood. 

They stay like that for a few moments, hugging in the bright light of the sunny Sunday morning, Steve’s coffee getting cold from where he left it by the window. But he doesn’t care about coffee when he have something much better resting in his arms. 

Bucky starts to breath a bit faster then and Steve gets a bit worried because they _are_ okay now, aren’t they? But the hand at his back suddenly gets tighter around the fabric of his shirt. It’s like Bucky suddenly thought about something bad again, maybe about their fight?  

He runs his own hand up and down Bucky’s back, trying to calm him, trying to will the fast pace of his breath back to normal, “Heeeey. It’s okay Buck. We’re okay”

“I had a nightmare about you… The night before we fought. That’s why I was a mess. I was coming back to school, and I remembered you. But you didn’t. You ask me who I was and you looked at me with so much disgust in your eyes, at my missing arm and... “ 

“Hush. This was just a nightmare. I’m here. And I am far from being disgusted by you, Bucky, come on. I am so gone for you it’s not even funny anymore. I’ve been miserable the past weeks without you...”

“Prove it,” Bucky whispers, lifting his head up to look at Steve from under his long lashes, a little glint of mischief glinting in his blue eyes.

The storm is gone now, replaced by a clear, calm ocean in Bucky’s eyes. Steve blushes a little bit under the way Bucky is looking at him now because, there isn’t only mischief, there is a bit of lust in them too. Bucky keeps glancing at his lips as well, licking at his own raspberry pink ones and Steve might combust right where he stands. 

Bucky makes a cute little giggling sound. Give it to Bucky to look like sin but laugh like an angel. He smiles at Steve again and he whispers with what sounds like wonder dripping from his voice “You have such a big crush on me, Rogers!” 

It makes Steve laugh in surprise and he shakes his head, like he’s denying it, trying to get out of Bucky’s embrace as he says “Shut up!”

“Come on! I have a file full of stalker pictures of you, I think it’s safe to say the crush is mutual,” Bucky says, fighting back to keep Steve close to him. 

Here it is again. That intense wave or warmth taking over Steve’s body at Bucky’s words. He wants to kiss him so badly right now… that’s what Bucky meant, right, when he told Steve to prove it?

He is looking at Steve’s lips again but instead of leaning in and finally taking that delicious mouth with his own, Steve says : “I have sketchbooks filled with your face. And other things.” 

Bucky’s face snaps up when he hears that and his wide blue eyes meets Steve’s embarrassed ones. His smile is so big and bright it puts the sun outside to shame. 

“Are you serious? You use that amazing talent of yours to draw my dumb face? Do you still have them? Steve! I wanna see them now!” 

Steve nods, smiling at Bucky’s enthusiasm and forgetting a bit of his own embarrassment, “Yeah I kept all of them. It’s somewhere in my room -” 

“Then what are we waiting for?”

Steve laughs again because it’s just so good to see him like this, to see his cheeks pink with excitement, his eyes bright and clear. To know Steve is the reason for such pretty colors flushing over Bucky’s face.

“Okay. Let me grab my coat and-”

“Yeah, no. Wait. I need to do something first okay?” They are still holding each other, arms wrapped around waist and cotton covered chests pressed together. 

Steve doesn’t have a second to reply before Bucky closes the distance between them and presses his lips firmly to Steve’s. It is soft and innocent at first, just a delicate pressure of their mouths meeting with Bucky’s bottom lip fitting perfectly between Steve.  

Bucky hums softly against Steve’s mouth and he pushes further, moving his lips then, and instantly, the kiss turns more hungry and demanding. Steve kisses back reaching a hand to tangle into Bucky’s long hair like he’s wanted to do since the first time he laid eyes on him this year. 

They kiss nice and slow for awhile, only tasting and exploring, never pushing too far. They are just enjoying the other’s warm lips and tongue and the skin heating up under exploring fingers.  

It is everything Steve ever wanted and more. 

Kissing Bucky isn’t life changing. It’s not fireworks behind his eyes or dozens of butterfly flying around his stomach, no. 

Kissing Bucky is like painting. It’s soothing, comforting. It makes his mind go quiet for once. It’s like every movement of his tongue is a brush spreading beautiful colors on a blank canvas.  

Kissing Bucky is like laying down in the grass on a bright summer day, soaking in the sun and looking at the clouds floating above. 

When they stop, it’s slowly, reluctantly. They are still pecking each other’s lips, more smiling against the other mouth then anything else. Bucky’s hand stays firm on the back of Steve’s head, keeping him close with their foreheads pressed together. 

“No more fighting, more kissing,” Bucky says around a smile before claiming Steve’s mouth into another kiss, this one making him weak in the knees.

 

 

-

 

 

Back in Steve's room, Bucky sits in the middle of Steve’s bed, sketchbooks resting on his crossed legs. His leather jacket is now hanging behind the door, and he is still wrapped into his soft looking hoodie, turning the pages carefully. 

He smiles, unguarded and so, so happy at every single one of Steve’s drawing.

Steve feels self-conscious, standing in the corner and looking at the other boy going through what feels like Steve’s whole heart opened up, right there on Bucky’s knees.  

“What a nice pair of stalkers we are,” Bucky says, smiling up at Steve. He seems to notice how nervous Steve looks and he stops smiling and frowns up at him instead, reaching his hand to him, “Hey… You alright? These are amazing, Steve.” 

“I’ve just… Never showed them to anyone before.”  

“Because you had such a big crush on meeeee.” Bucky sings songs and Steve can’t help but laugh again at the way Bucky is teasing him, “Come here,” he says softly. 

Steve joins Bucky on the bed, sitting close and resting his head on Bucky’s good shoulder. He starts tracing patterns over the rose covering Bucky’s knuckles. “You really saw me like that?” Bucky asks with a jerk of his chin towards the sketches of him.

“What do you mean?” 

“I mean. I look, I don’t know, different?” 

Steve keeps brushing his fingers over Bucky’s skin, “Good different or bad different?”  

“I am pretty sure I am not as handsome as you’re making me there, Steve.”

“You look even better,” Steve retorts in a whisper. With a satisfied sigh, Bucky puts the sketchbook aside and gets more comfortable, resting his back against Steve’s headboard, “Thank you,” he whispers back. 

Steve grabs at some of the Sharpies he always keeps in a cup on his bedside table and starts coloring the rose on Bucky’s hand with pretty shades of red and pink. He fills the leaves surrounding it in bright greens. 

“You don’t like my tattoos, Rogers?” Bucky murmurs from above him. 

“No, I do. Just improving them,” Steve replies, looking at Bucky on top of his glasses and giving him a warm smile. Bucky starts removing his hoodie and Steve’s helps him, rolling the short sleeve of his t-shirt to have better access to all the tattoos covering Bucky’s skin.

“I really like those sketches you did of me.” 

“Thank you. I really like the pictures you took of me.” 

There is a skull on Bucky’s forearm and Steve picks up his grey marker to add a bit more shading to it. Bucky lays his head back and he does that cute little giggling sound again, biting at his lips to keep it inside. But Steve wants to hear it, it might be his favorite sound after Bucky’s morning voice. “Tickles,” Bucky says, leaning over to press his lips against Steve’s forehead.  

On top of Bucky’s shoulder is a compass shaped like a star and Steve fills it with purple just because he wants to hear him laugh again. “Purple is your color, obviously,” Steve tells him, trying not to laugh at the offended look on Bucky’s face. They stay like that for awhile, until the entirety of Bucky’s sleeve is filled up with bright colors.

 

 

 

When he is done, Steve rolls on his side and rests his head against Bucky’s chest, his arm wrapped softly on top of Bucky’s stomach. Bucky’s good arm comes easily around Steve’s shoulders, his thumb rubbing comforting circles against the skin of Steve’s bicep. 

“I’ve never talked about my nightmares to anyone before, you know.”

Steve stays silent, he knows it must be hard for Bucky to talk about it and the fact that they are not looking into each other’s eyes probably helps. So he stays there and he doesn’t interrupt, he only holds on a bit tighter to Bucky’s hip, willing him to keep talking. 

“I feel like people won’t care. They can’t help what goes on in my head at night and, I don’t wanna bother them with my twisted dreams. But I think... I think I finally realized that, talking about them could help. I’d like to talk to you about it, if you’d like.” 

“Sam says a dream comes back over and over again until you understand its meaning.”

He feels Bucky’s body stiffen underneath him and he is scared he might have said too much again, “You talked about my nightmares with Sam?” 

“No! He studies psychology and he had this class about dreams and he got obsessed with it and asked about my dreams almost each morning that semester. I remember that part, that’s all.” 

Bucky relaxes and his hand moves to Steve’s hair, running his fingers in the long blond strands, “Okay, I am sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Steve says, and he lift his head to look at Bucky, “I would like to hear about your dreams, you know.” 

Bucky stays silent for a few minutes then, breathing slowly, in and out. He clears his throat and starts talking again,  “Steve, can I tell you something?”

“Anything.” 

“I um.. I lost my parents in the accident. They both died. And I- I... I lost my arm and I am covered in scars that are probably going to be there forever. And I have memory loss, and I have panic attacks and I am a mess, okay?”  

Steve feels his throat constrict listening to Bucky. He lost his parents. They died in that accident and Steve was stupid enough to think that being forgotten by Bucky was the worst thing to happen, here. And for some stupid reason, Bucky is in his bed and he is looking at him like he is begging Steve to still take him with all the horrible things that happened to him.  

Saying no to Bucky isn’t even a possibility, now. 

Steve sits up, pulling Bucky with him as well until they are face to face, looking in each other’s eyes.

Steve reaches up with both hands and holds Bucky’s face, softly, he pulls him in for a kiss. 

“Okay” he says against Bucky’s lips before finally closing the distance between them. It is a quick, soft kiss, only to seal the deal between them. The purpose of the kiss was for Bucky to understand Steve was okay with it. That he was with him until the end of the line.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Epilogue.  
> A few weeks later...

They are stumbling down their dorm corridor, well after midnight, a Friday night a few weeks later. They are trying their best to be quiet. Well, Bucky knows  _ he _ is trying his best but he is not so sure about Steve. 

Steve who keeps stopping to push him in some dark corner and claim his already bruised lips for hungry kisses, over and over again. Who is Bucky Barnes, really, to refuse any of those kisses when he spent so long daydreaming about it?

They keep smiling and giggling, hiding the sounds in the other's shoulder or neck. It feels like they’re drunk even if neither of them had a single drop of alcohol tonight. They went to the diner Peggy works at and, if they are high on something it’s probably the sugar of the huge chocolate milkshake they shared. 

Maybe they’re intoxicated on each other’s presence, Bucky thinks, as cheesy as it sounds.

But he likes cheesy now. 

Bucky likes when Steve interrupts him in the middle of a sentence only to kiss him, whispering that he looked hot (sometimes gorgeous) before asking him, like nothing happened, to keep going. He likes all the little sketches of himself Steve leaves around his room. The little notes, tiny love letters that he slips into Bucky’s backpack or textbooks or the novel he is reading that week.

He hates that he used to find all these things absolutely useless and ridiculous before. That he used to make fun of his friends, of his sister. But now, all these small gestures cause a nice comforting warmth in his belly, every single time.

They finally reach his dorm door, and Bucky tries his best to fish his keys from the inside pocket of his jacket but he is pushed against the wall, right next to the door and Steve is kissing him again. He laughs against Steve’s mouth because seriously, they’ll never make it inside if Steve keeps doing this. But he kisses back without a second thought because it’s addicting and perfect and nobody ever kissed him that good before. 

Bucky feels Steve’s fingers around his wrist, pulling his hand away from his pocket and soon, he feels the same fingers tickling his stomach through his sweater. He gives up on trying to unlock the door and fists his hand in Steve’s coat instead, pulling him impossibly closer. But soon, he feels Steve’s fingers moving to the hem of his sweater, pulling it up and cold fingers meet the bare skin of his stomach. Bucky sucks in a surprised breath, because of the intense change of temperature between his heated skin and Steve’s icy fingers but also because he knows about the scars on his side and up his ribs.

He knows how unpleasant it feels under his own fingertips, how ugly it looks as well. That and the lump on his shoulder too, where his arm used to be. 

So he squirms away from Steve, hiding his discomfort under a nervous laugh, reaching for his keys again, “We can’t make out in the hallway all night, come on.”

He hides his blush under the dark curtain of his his hair as he slides the key inside the lock and pushes the door open. He feels Steve’s hands reaching for his waist again, Steve’s strong body crowding his own as they walk inside Bucky’s room but his discomfort doesn’t fade away. 

He gets frustrated and he really doesn’t want Steve to see how embarrassed he is and how he was so turned on just five minutes ago but now he’d rather hide under his bed for the rest of the weekend. There is an unpleasant itch all over his skin and he wants Steve to stop touching him.

But of course, Steve notices, of course he does. And since their last and only fight so far, he is such a angel about any of Bucky’s little freak outs, it’s almost unfair. He takes a step back as soon as he notices Bucky’s discomfort and he frowns but not in anger, he is worried, “Babe, did I do something to make you uncomfortable?” 

He stays close to Bucky but he drops his hands to his sides and he plays nervously with the seam of his dark blue jeans. There is concern in his eyes, but no disappointment even if Bucky pretty much just cock blocked him.

“I’m alright,” Bucky says, trying to will his voice not to break, to stop shaking.

“No you’re not. And it’s okay. I can just go to bed in my own room and I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?” 

Steve’s voice is so soft and comforting that even though he isn’t touching him anymore, Bucky almost feels his strong palms cupping his jaw, a few fingers caressing his cheek as well. Bucky needs to speak to him, he knows that now. He knows that keeping everything inside did nothing good before, so he reaches for Steve's hand, but can’t quite look in his eyes yet,

“There is… some scars. On my side where I lost my arm and I’m …”

“Oh Bucky.”

Steve drops his hand but only to take Bucky’s face between his palms, just like he was imagining a few seconds before and Steve leaves a soft kiss on his lips, “We can go as slow as you want, I don’t care. Your pace. I will wait as long as it takes, I’m not going anywhere.”

“But I want to, Steve it’s just that... It’s ugly!” 

Bucky spits the last part, his voice full of anger. He feels his eyes fill with tears of frustration and he just wants to stomp his feet like a child all of sudden because all of this is ridiculous. He doesn’t want Steve to look at him with disgust. He won’t survive it if he takes his shirt off and he sees regret pass on Steve’s handsome face.

“Hey. Nothing about you is ugly, do you hear me? You’re beautiful,” Steve tells him, holding his face a bit harder than before, speaking each word with his icy blue eyes looking right into Bucky’s grey ones.

Okay, now Bucky really is going to cry, because it’s such a Steve thing to say and at the same time, it’s exactly what he needed. What did he do to deserve someone like Steve? 

He just nods, looking down, words  sticking in his throat, a  _ thank you _ or  _ shut up, you punk _ or... those three little words that are scary as hell but Bucky’s pretty sure there is nothing truer than the fact that he is completely in love with Steve by now.

So he kisses him, hoping all the things he can’t say can be shared by his lips capturing Steve’s in a hard, passionate kiss. Steve kisses back, of course he does, but this time it’s more careful. It’s like he is ready to follow Bucky wherever he is ready to go, like he is letting Bucky take the lead. There is still want and need in Steve’s kiss, there always is and it’s fascinating for Bucky but, it’s much more tender and sweet than it was in the corridor earlier.

With a brief questioning look, Steve pushes Bucky’s jacket off his shoulders, and unwrap his scarf as well. He lets Bucky do the same to him. They end up laughing and smiling when Bucky struggles just a tiny bit with Steve’s winter clothes. Because his only hand is a bit shaky with nerves. Because he is so in love with the man standing in front of him. He tries to go too fast and he ends up tangled in Steve’s clothes and in Steve himself.  

But they laugh and it feels good, the air around them a bit lighter now that the awkwardness is gone. Bucky is still nervous of course, still painfully aware of how his body looks, but he wants Steve so bad there is an ache in the middle of his chest. He just needs him. He wants Steve, and deep down, he knows that Steve wants him too. He knows Steve doesn’t care about his scars. He sees it everyday, in the blue of his beautiful eyes, under his long, long lashes and hidden behind his geeky glasses. Bucky sees how Steve feels about him, he knows that he won’t run away from him either. He knows that the three little words Bucky fears might be on the tip of Steve’s tongue as well.

And of course it doesn’t make all of Bucky’s fears suddenly fade away, but it does help to soothe some of his bigger insecurities. 

He looks up at Steve with a smirk before pulling at the hem of his boyfriend’s t-shirt, pulling it up and throwing it somewhere in a corner of his room. There is no scars on Steve’s chest, just miles and miles of perfect skin. 

Bucky loves how Steve’s blush goes down to his chest, his collarbones turning the cutest shade of pink. He loves his strong pecs, completely hairless, unlike Bucky’s. He loves Steve’s wonderful abs and his thin waist disappearing inside his dark blue jeans in such a perfect V. He looks even better than what Bucky imagined. 

In this moment Bucky wishes he could draw like Steve does, or that one day, Steve will let him take pictures of him, just like this. 

He traces every hard line of Steve’s body with the tip of his fingers, enjoying the goosebumps raising all over the milky skin. 

“Oh, so I can’t slip a few fingers up your shirt but you can get me half naked?” Steve teases, and Bucky isn’t mad because he knows Steve is joking, he knows by his smile and the color of his cheeks that Steve is a bit nervous too. 

Bucky looks at him, biting his lip around a smile as well and he catches one of Steve’s hand, leading it to the hem of his own shirt as well. 

He nods at Steve’s questioning look and takes a deep breath for courage.

“Bucky if it makes you uncomfortable...,” Steve says, finger still at the bottom of Bucky’s shirt, his eyes searching Bucky’s for any kind of confirmation that this is okay. 

“Steve, do you know how long I’ve been dreaming about you touching me?” 

He sees the way Steve swallows hard, fingers twitching against Bucky’s stomach,

“I think I do,” Steve whispers and then it’s skin against skin, his fingers finally under Bucky’s shirt and he feels each point of contact like a burning flame, Steve’s hand catching at the dark hairs on his lower stomach. He goes up, so softly it tickles a little bit, tracing Bucky’s muscles as well, up his ribs and then Bucky closes his eyes when he feels Steve touch one of the white ugly scars.

His own hand stays still against Steve’s chest and he can’t move, he can’t even breathe as he feels rough, calloused fingers trail over every mark covering his skin. It’s like Steve is trying to memorize them, like he’s reading Bucky’s story by running his fingers all over the raised skin of the scars painted over his ribs. 

Absentmindedly, he feels Steve’s other hand pulling at his shirt and suddenly it’s off and he is half naked too. He doesn’t fight it, he lets it happen because it’s like he’s in a trance. Steve’s fingers have been replaced by soft warm lips and Bucky might cry with how good it feels. He moves without even noticing, his hand fisting Steve’s hair at the back of his neck silently begging him to keep going. He wants Steve lips on his skin forever.

It makes Steve stop though, he must have thought Bucky wanted him to stop when he touched his neck so he looks up a bit nervously, “Is this okay?”

It clears up a bit of the fog of arousal Bucky got lost into for a few moments and he nods, swallowing and licking at his dry lips, “Yeah. More than okay. Make me forget about the scars, Steve.”

Steve straightens up to meet Bucky’s eyes and kisses him again, “Okay.” He wraps his arms around Bucky’s waist and he walks them backwards to the bed. Steve makes Bucky sit at the edge of the bed, his strong hands pushing gently at Bucky's shoulders, as Steve falls to his knees between Bucky's legs.

Steve’s hands are going up his thighs slowly, squeezing at them and there is something in Steve’s eyes, like he is in awe of the firm muscles under his palms. Bucky smiles because _oh, that’s new_. He takes a mental note to remember that the other man clearly has a thing for this part of his anatomy. 

He doesn’t have time to think too much about it because Steve’s fingers are at the button of his jeans and he is looking questioningly at Bucky again, through his thick blonde fringe and above his glasses and everything is suddenly a bit too much. The room feels hot, Steve looks hot, his hands on Bucky’s lap feels like a burning fire. 

“Can I?”

But he wants him so much, easily surrendering to the flames.

Bucky nods and then the button is open and the zipper is down and he is lifting his hips from the bed as Steve pulls his jeans down his legs. Again, he takes his time to touch Bucky’s thighs while he does so. When he stands Bucky stops him with his hands against Steve’s stomach, “Yours too.”

Steve smiles down at him, cheeks pink, and he does just what Bucky asked for and isn’t it a sight for sore eyes, Steve Rogers getting his jeans undone and slipping them off his strong, muscular legs, revealing a very tiny pair of dark blue briefs. It doesn’t leave much for Bucky’s imagination, the way the fabric is stretching over Steve’s cock or the way he can see how the front is a bit damp already. 

Bucky knows it’s pretty much the same for him but he is too busy admiring Steve. 

“No Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles today?”

Bucky couldn’t help himself, he remembers catching a glimpse of bright green that day when he caught Steve in bed and the other night, they went to do their laundry together (aka making out while waiting for the washing machine to be done) and he noticed that pair and his brain did the math. It is totally worth it for the way Steve looks down at him with his eyes as wide as saucers and his face bright pink.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he mumbles, pushing at Bucky’s chest to have him lay down on the bed. Then he starts crawling on top of him and really, Bucky quickly forgets what they were talking about, _  Teenage Mutant who? _

Steve’s lips are at his neck, his fingers pushing a few strands of hair away so he can kiss his way up to Bucky’s jaw and then finally his lips again. His hands are everywhere and Bucky forgets about marks and scars for a few moments with how tender Steve’s touch his. How warm his fingers are, how soft it feels. It sends shiver up his body, down his spine.

He stops breathing completely when Steve leaves a lingering kiss on his shoulder, right above where his arm should be.

He must have felt how tense Bucky suddenly became because he straightens up a bit and looks into his eyes. One of his hands comes up to Bucky’s cheek and his thumb rubs comforting little circles against his stubbly jaw. 

“You are gorgeous, Bucky. I wish I could draw you for the rest of my life, sometimes. I can barely takes my eyes off of you when we’re in a room together. And I get that it’s hard for you, but to me there is nothing about you that I don’t completely adore.”

“You’re such a sap,” Bucky answers, his voice a bit faint with emotion.

“I am,” Steve smiles “But you’re having trouble with yourself and I wanna make you feel better .”

“I know, and you do, trust me” Bucky says, lifting his head up a bit to kiss Steve’s lips, “Now can you please touch my dick, I’m dying over here.”

Steve is startled in a surprised laugh and he falls on top of Bucky’s body as he is shaking with laughter, his face pressed against the skin of Bucky’s neck, “Oh my god. I was trying to be  _ romantic _ ! We were having a moment!” He says breathlessly and he keeps laughing, making Bucky laugh too because he loves the sound of Steve’s happiness so much. 

“Well, use that momentum to touch my dick,” Bucky adds laughing as hard as Steve now and that’s how it should be, really. 

He shouldn’t be nervous, or ashamed. He should have fun with Steve, because he makes Bucky smile and laugh and he makes him feel so good. He makes him feel desirable, and worthy. And it’s all that matters really. If the person you love is willing to take you for the way you are, with your flaws and all your fucked up problems, well, you just dive in completely and you let yourself enjoy the ride. 

Bucky thinks it’s more than time to let himself be loved, he deserved it..

He grabs at Steve’s waist with his hand and he rolls his hips up, and it is a little bit funny how quickly the laughter suddenly dies in both of their throats and how their smiles are replaced with expression of pure bliss.

“Oh now you’re ready?’ Steve’s says looking down at him through the blond strands of hair falling in his face. He quickly removes his glasses, putting them safely on Bucky’s bedside table. There is a challenge in Steve’s blue eyes when he looks down at him and it sends something delicious crawling over Bucky’s skin. Suddenly there are strong hands at his waist, and he doesn’t have anytime to think about it before Steve is cupping him through his boxers and the world feels like it just turned upside down.

“Oh God.”

Steve keeps rubbing him through his underwear, his mouth leaving biting kisses down Bucky’s throat and he can’t stop rolling his hips up in Steve’s strong hand. He can’t keep his own off of Steve’s ass because oh, he won’t ever get tired of that marvelous thing and it feels more than wonderful under Bucky’s clumsy fingers. He loves how responsive Steve is whenever Bucky touches him there and how he turns into such a mess every time, letting Bucky push him in any empty classroom for a little impromptu maken out session.

He feels Steve’s fingers slip under the hem of his boxers and he murmurs “Take ‘em off” before Steve has the time to ask for his permission. He feels more than he sees how quickly Steve rips them off his legs and suddenly all he feels is skin against skin because apparently Bucky is so out of it he didn’t notice Steve taking his own boxers off as well. 

Bucky can’t keep his moans to himself as he feels Steve’s cock rub against his own and _ fuck _ , he is big, of course he is, look at him. 

Bucky starts rolling his hips again, seeking friction and his hand tries to grab at whatever part of Steve’s back he can reach, trying to pull him closer, trying to beg without words, for the other man to fuck him into the mattress.

It’s been forever since he felt this good.

“What do you want, Buck?” Steve asks, every words spoken right against Bucky’s hungry lips.

“I don’t care. Just make me come.”

Steve lifts his head up a little, to look into Bucky’s eyes, his thumb against Bucky’s swollen lips. His eyes are so dark, Bucky licks at Steve’s thumb, sucking it in his mouth just to see the look on Steve’s face. Just to see the way his own wants are reflected in the beautiful blue eyes looking down on him like he is the most beautiful thing on earth.

_ No Steve, that’s you _ , Bucky thinks. He’s so damn lucky.

“Can I suck you off?” Steve questions, his voice deeper than usual, and Bucky might come on the spot if Steve asked him to with that voice. But right now, he really, really wants that perfect mouth on him, “Please” he says, and there is no time to get embarrassed by how needy and desperate he sounds.

And Steve, he doesn’t just dive in between Bucky’s legs to get his mouth around him, no. He worships every inch on his torso as he kisses a path down Bucky’s body and he traces addicting shapes over his heated skin. Bucky never felt more wanted in his life. Never felt so turned on. Steve goes down his thighs as well, and it stings a bit, when he sucks and bites at the tender skin there, but it just makes Bucky harder. It makes him want to spread his legs wider and let Steve do whatever he wants to him. 

Steve starts with his hand first, wrapping his fist around Bucky’s leaking cock, keeping his mouth and teeth working their way up Bucky’s thighs. Bucky reaches down to slip his hand in Steve’s hair, down his soft cheek and he feels the warmth on his skin, the flush covering his face. His eyes are so dark when he looks up at Bucky and he looks feverish like he is getting high on the taste and feel of Bucky’s skin. 

Bucky’ can’t keep his eyes away from him, even when Steve finally wraps his lips around the head, circling his tongue around it as he keeps jerking him off painfully slow. Bucky can’t keep his eyes away even if all he wants is to throw his head back and just enjoy the warmth of Steve’s delicious mouth. But it’s too pretty, it’s so damn beautiful, the way arousal paints the most amazing colors on Steve’s milky skin. It looks like art when his strawberry pink lips are stretched around the girth of his hard cock,that’s already leaking over Steve’s tongue.

He feels so hot everywhere, even if Steve’s mouth is only in one place, it feels like he is everywhere. It feels like Steve’s fingers, holding his hips, and caresseing his thighs are leaving marks behind and he wants that, he wants all kind of reminders of this delicious moment. He loves the sounds Steve makes and he can’t keep quiet, begging him to go faster to keep going to never, ever stop and just stay there between Bucky’s legs forever and ever.

They don’t need to go to school anymore right? He’d rather just stay in this bed with Steve. 

As he gets closer to falling off the edge, his fingers go tighter in Steve’s blond hair and he tries to warn him “I’m gonna. Steve, I’m -”

But it just make Steve suck harder, his tongue doing things to make Bucky’s toes curl in delight. Just knowing that Steve clearly wants Bucky to come in his mouth well, it’s enough for Bucky to come, to shoot his release down Steve’s throat. This time, he can’t keep his eyes on Steve anymore and he buries his face in his pillow as he comes, and he knows he is loud but his vision goes white and his ears are ringing and  _ fuck _ , it feels so good. 

He pushes at Steve’s head when it starts to feel too much and those lips are making their way up again, leaving kisses on his now sweaty skin. Soon enough Steve is looking down at him, looking like sin, lips and cheeks a deep red and his hair a right mess. His hard cock pokes at Bucky’s thigh and he quickly wraps his own fingers around it.

“You don’t have to...” Steve says but it sounds anything but convincing with the way his voice cracks around the words. 

And it’s far from being the best handjob he’s given but Steve looks too far gone to care, hiding his flushed face in the crook of Bucky’s neck and pushing his cock in Bucky’s fist, chasing his own release. 

“Come on, Steve, come for me. Nobody ever sucked my cock as good as you did. You made me feel so good. Best blowjob of my life. Come for me, come all over my stomach, Stevie.”

“Fuck,” Steve says against his skin, his voice tight and high and his hips starts stuttering as he comes, all over Bucky’s skin, just like he asked. He feels sticky, and sweaty and the love bites on the inside of his thigh are still pulsing, just like the blood is pumping in his ears. The heavy weight of Steve, who just fell, boneless on top of him also feels wonderful and Bucky looks at the ceiling of his room with a big smile on his face. 

He feels Steve coming back to life, kissing his throat and his jaw and high on his cheekbone. He feels the way Steve’s lips are stretched in a smile as well and he lifts himself up, grabbing at the box of tissues on Bucky’s bedside table and cleaning up the mess he left on Bucky’s body.  

When the dirty tissues are in the trash, and the lights are off, Steve comes back to bed and lays next to Bucky, looking at him and still smiling, “Are you alright?” Steve asks, shy fingers at Bucky’s side, touching the scars softly.

“More than. We should nap and go for round two.”

Steve laughs and kisses at Bucky’s good shoulder, “It’s the middle of the night. We should sleep and go for round two, tomorrow.”

It’s more than a great idea because Bucky feels his eyes getting heavy, the same way his limbs are and he knows sleep is near. He would sleep so good in Steve’s strong arms. Yes. Sleep is good. Sleep.

“Bucky?” Steve asks warily.

“Hum?”

“I’m in love with you,” and it’s just a whisper in the room, like Steve is too scared to speak those words aloud. But it feels right. It feels good to hear it and when Bucky is more awake, he’ll ask Steve to repeat the words over and over again. But for now, he’s slipping in the marvelous world of dreams, all he manages to do is mumble “Love you too, punk.” 

The last thing he hears is Steve’s laugh. He makes a promise to himself that starting from now, he needs to hear that laugh every night before bed. 

And that night, for the first time in a very long time, Bucky doesn’t have any nightmares. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you thank you thank you mostly to Charlotte, who made that wonderful piece of art I WANTED SO BAD to write about. Thanks to my betas, Megan, Lau, Kiki (THANK YOU FOR THE GREAT SUMMARY).  
> Thanks to Heather and to Avery who helped me a lot as well.
> 
> You can find us on tumblr
> 
> [rosesnfeathers](http://rosesnfeathers.tumblr.com/)  
> [artizblue](https://artizblue.tumblr.com/)


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